


Love Isn't Always Romantic

by khaoticwoes



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Dynamics, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Endings, Sad Ending, maybe no comfort, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaoticwoes/pseuds/khaoticwoes
Summary: Love isn’t always romantic. Love comes in all forms, even if people argue on how many. One type of love identified by the Greeks was storge - familial love. The love between family.All love, however, can be unrequited.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 371
Kudos: 1351





	1. Chapter 1

It began during a live stream. A planned group live stream focused around the Sleepy Bois Incorporated consisting of Phil, Wilbur, Techno, and most importantly, Tommy. Of course, Tommy was the most important, who else? It didn’t matter what the video was about, whether it was another Minecraft challenge or dramatic roleplaying, no one cared. It was all about the people, the family dynamic between the four that the audience loved and adored. Well, maybe more than just the audience.

Tommy sat back in his chair and let the voices envelop his ears. Everything was chaos, it always was with the four. Murder and crime was a mere pastime, a simple part of their daily lives. More than a hundred thousand people had come to watch Tommy interact with his friends- no, his _family_ , and it still amazed him how a simple teen like him had gotten so far. A laugh cuts through his headphones. 

“Hey mates, this dono just asked who my favorite child is. So? Go ahead and fight to the death for the honor”, Philza called out with a loud laugh. Almost instantly, both Techno and Wilbur let out a yell and began to attack Tommy together. The red game over screen popped up across his screen and the chat began to fly.

“That’s not fair!” Tommy screamed into the mic before huffing. “Well it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m _clearly_ the favorite child, isn’t that right Mr. Dadza Minecraft?” 

A mix of joyous laughter burst through his headphones, deep voices, and wheezes combining. “Well it doesn’t matter, chat. I love all of my children equally. Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are my sons, and nothing else would change that, alright?”. 

The chat began to absolutely blur in rapid speed, but Tommy didn’t even look once. Instead, warmth bubbled in his chest and surrounded him. He took his hands off the keyboard and instead decided to just listen. With the voices of the other three in his ears, the laughter, and quips, he realized- _and wished_ \- that he could stay in this moment forever. 

_Huh. We really are a family, aren’t we?_

Unrequited love can be painful, unbearably so. Finding out you were in love in the first place was the worst part. For some people, love crept in, slow yet inevitably seeping into your mind until you could think of nothing but love. For Tommy, it came _violently_.

A moment passes. Then Tommy begins _coughing_. The voices stop speaking, but he wouldn’t have been able to hear them over his violent coughs, his throat closing up and choking. He clawed desperately at his throat even though it felt like nails were dragging along the inside. Everything was burning. Tears ran down his eyes as he bent over, out of the camera’s range. Air refused to come in, only out as Tommy coughed and coughed and _coughed_. After one last cough that was almost a scream, he felt something burst from his mouth and onto his hand. 

Gasping for air, Tommy could finally breathe, even if it still hurt. Looking back at the object in his palm, he was met with the sight of a small white petal. 

_What the fuck?_

Tommy finally sat up straight and quickly grabbed a water bottle on his desk with his other hand before gulping down the water. It didn’t stop the burning but it made a vast difference. Looking back on the screen he could see the chat almost indecipherable at this point, going too fast and filled with screaming. On Discord, he could see the concern on his fa- friend’s faces.

“Are you okay Tommy? What happened?” Wilbur’s voice was gentle for once. It reminded him of his parents whenever Tommy got miserably sick. Tommy cleared his throat once more for good measure before answering.

“Yeah, I’m good Wilbur.” He winced at his strained voice. Too focused on his voice, he barely caught the faces of concern on their faces.

“For some reason, I just coughed up this petal or something.”

A moment passes. Then everyone began to scream. Phil began to shout concerned babble while Wilbur began to panic. His chat itself was screaming, a blur of words and comments flying past in rapid succession. Only Techno remained silent. What made them all so panicked? He was fine, wasn’t he?

One word was constantly repeated. _Hanahaki_.

A message from Techno came through Discord. ‘ _Tommy, you should end the stream. Now._ ’ Another message came through with a link. He didn't understand why, but he trusted them, more than he probably should. So he listened and gave a hasty goodbye before ending the stream. The others quickly followed.

“Tommy… you should read the link.” Techno’s low voice broke the silence. “I- have you ever heard of the Hanahaki disease?” Tommy’s silence was answer enough. 

“It’s a… possibly fatal disease born from unrequited love. The symptom is coughing up flowers that grow inside your lungs. You… you should look at the link. And tell your parents.”

 _Tommy couldn’t breathe_. Hanahaki disease? Possibly fatal? _Unrequited love?_ That couldn’t be possible or even true. But with the small, white petal resting in his hand, the truth was hard to deny. Besides, even with all of the jokes or teasing, none of them would dare lie about this. 

“Tommy, you should mute your social media for now. We’ll handle this.” Wilbur’s voice sounded so distant in his own busy mind. Even so, he followed his directions and quickly muted everything. The other three could do nothing now, too helpless in this situation, so they said nothing but solemn yet sincere goodbyes.

“If you need anything, Tommy, we’re always right here.” Tommy just mutely nodded and muttered a silent goodbye before leaving the call. He clicked on the link.

Tommy spent the next few minutes, no, hours pouring over the endless stream of words. 

‘ _The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with a flower, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers)._ ’

He clutched his throat gingerly. The burning still remained. His mind swirled around in confusion. Unrequited love? But he doesn’t love anyone romantically. He hasn’t even talked to or looked at an actual girl in that way for months. He doesn't love anybody he thinks, especially unrequited love. Despite the jokes of women and being popular, everyone knew it was just that. A joke. 

His eyes turn to the petal that he had placed on his desk, the dainty, white petal almost a paragon of innocence. It was anything but. Tommy searched on his computer for flowers with a similar description, seemingly ending up with one conclusion. 

' _Queen Anne’s lace. A flower that is actually a wild carrot with edible roots but can be mildly toxic. Tommy winced at that. The flower symbolizes sanctuary, typically given to cherished family members, and can represent familial love_. '

 _Familial love_. Then it clicks. He loved his family. 

Not his real mom and dad. He had loved them from the very start of his life and they loved him back. No, this love that he had was for another family. His family with the rest of the Sleep Bois Inc. His love for Phil, Wilbur, and Techno. And Tommy _understood_. The warmth and pure bliss he feels when he’s with them. The comfort he feels with Phil’s comforting yet chaotic words. The joy he feels when he annoys Wilbur. Even the contentment he feels when he sits on calls with Techno, away from the eyes and ears of viewers and just exchanging pleasant stories. It’s all suddenly clarified and defined. Love. Familial love and Tommy could think of no phrase more fitting. 

Then it truly clicks.

‘ _Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love_.’ Unrequited love. Cold washes over Tommy and settles into a pit deep in his heart. The others, they-

They didn’t love him back. The little petal, which was actually just a small flower from the usual bunch of Queen Anne’s lace, stood out against his desk almost mockingly. It was a symbol, a physical representation, of how the people that he loved so dearly as friends - _as a family_ \- didn’t love him back in the same way, if at all.

They didn't think of him as family, and Tommy’s mind began to spiral. 

Of course they didn’t think of them as family. Why would they? He was just a child, an annoying one at that. He wasn’t even a part of the original group- no he had to _pry_ and _claw_ his way in there, to gain their approval to be one of them. Did, did they even want him there in the first place? 

According to the flower that came out of his lungs, clearly not. 

Maybe they did care for him. Maybe he was more than just an irritating brat and was instead a good friend or co-worker. Maybe they did appreciate his presence. But even if they did, they clearly did not have the same overwhelming and encompassing familial love he felt for them. The love that plagued his mind during the days and brought him endless joy just by listening to their voices. Love that always made him call them almost daily, even if they or Tommy himself was busy. Just pure, unfiltered love. 

Then again, why would they ever like- love him in that way? It was _Tommy’s_ fault for being in love with that family. He was the foolish child who fell in love with a family dynamic purely constructed and played up for the audience and viewers. He was the one who loved the idea of a family that never existed, loved so much, that he was _dying_ for it. 

Tommy thought he kind of deserved it. 

The next few days for Tommy were like a living hell. He told his parents after he finally snapped out of his own stupor. He wondered briefly if they would think it’s just a sick joke, and brought the flower along just in case for proof. They believed him instantly, never once considering the idea of him lying and instead just hugged him tight before driving him to the hospital with teary eyes. Tommy’s eyes teared up a little as well. He never had to show the flower to them. 

He coughs on the way there, more white petals coming so small that they shouldn’t even phase Tommy, but each one of them scratched at his lungs. At the hospital, he is told of the two possible fates left in his hands. 

‘ _One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if the said person returns the feeling (it can’t be resolved with friendship, it has to be genuine feelings of love). The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals._ ’ 

Tommy could either tell the three about the love he felt and pray to whatever being or power that cursed him with this infliction in the first place that they loved him back. He had a feeling, however, that life wasn’t that kind. 

The other option was to undergo surgery that could remove the fatal plant growing inside of him, but for whatever reason or force that created the Hanahaki disease in the first place, the forceful removal of the plant would have the dire consequences of losing all feelings or emotions ever attached to the intended person. In the worst situation, the surgery could even remove memories. 

And the thought of losing the love, the pure, unwavering feeling that he so valued in his heart- it was almost unbearable. Having nothing but emptiness with every thought or action with Phil, Wilbur, or Techno scared him. He didn’t dare entertain the possibility of forgetting them. Tommy may be called foolish and naive, but he is nothing but determined and stubborn. He would rather _die_ before he would let that happen. 

He looked down at his hands. He was wrong, there were three possible fates. Failure to meet the two options led to one, inevitable ending. 

Death. 

‘ _If they choose neither option, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate._ ’ 

His life was put on a time limit. A few months was what the doctors said. The signs of the disease passing through stages included thorns growing, coughing up whole flowers, and the appearance of blood. In his case, Tommy would cough up small flowers of Queen Anne’s lace due to its small stature and would begin to cough up bundles when it got worse. By the time all three symptoms appeared, Tommy better have had made his decision and take it with him to the grave. Maybe even literally. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know how this would all end, whether it would be a happy ending or him choking on blood as he died, but whatever it was, he knew it’s an ending he would have to live with.
> 
> And so does everyone else.
> 
> Last chapter of the main story. Any future chapters will all be different endings!

Against his better judgment, Tommy continued streaming. The day after having a coughing fit in a live stream and exposing his condition to more than a hundred thousand viewers, the information quickly spread everywhere. It was even trending on Twitter. It made sense of course. Tommy was a popular and famous figure no matter how much he tried to deny it. He and his friends could easily start a new trend at the drop of a word, and they had done so in the past. Now, with the complete possibility of him dying through a still mysterious and mostly unknown disease, Tommy gained and maintained the number one spot for days. 

That, however, didn’t make it any better when he saw the endless posts, theories, comments, and more. Many of them were wishes for better health, people saying good luck and praying for him. Some even told stories of their own experiences with Hanahaki. Those made him smile a bit. 

Many others- _too many_ \- were focused on making theories and asking questions. Who was the flower for? Who did THE TommyInnit love so much that it’s _killing him_? These questions were pushy and borderline toxic. There were endless spams of people asking him non-stop, telling him what to do. He ignored those as much as he could. 

A few made jokes about how Tommy actually loved something other than the grind and women. Some called him a simp. Those jokes were few in between.

As Wilbur promised, he and the others had done some sort of damage control, posting tweets saying to respect his privacy and attempting to calm most people. It worked to some degree, but any help was help he would appreciate. Tommy made his own official post, something along the lines of, ‘ _I do have Hanahaki which sucks. It is a personal thing so please don’t be a dick. If you want me to get better you should gift me more Twitch Primes-_ ’. He can’t remember the exact wording but it was the least of his concerns.

Currently, he was back in his room, streaming as he always did. Well, not exactly. A large bottle of water remained as a permanent fixture by his desk while a bin was kept by his side ready for whenever he had to vomit streams of petals. His fingers were quick and always ready to turn off the camera and mute before incoming coughing fit to prevent the chat from panicking. It didn’t work and Tommy eventually stopped streaming with his face cam. 

Speaking of chat, against his previous beliefs he resorted to using followers only, sometimes even to sub only as the chat began to endlessly ask the same questions over and over again. His spam bot failed multiple times and he stopped reading out all of the donations. He attributed that to the annoying questions and refused to believe that it was because of the painful scratching that appeared every time he spoke. Tommy tended to ignore or block the incessant pushing with silence or jokes.

‘ _I have too many girlfriends guys I don’t know which one it’s for._ ’

Contrary to his viewers, the other streamers and YouTubers were like a blessing. If anyone understood the need for privacy and boundaries it was them. He loved the fans he did, but spending time with close friends was a breath of fresh air compared to the large numbers of faceless people constantly screaming at him. They often got the hint and avoided the topic like a plague. Some treated him like he was fragile, and while it irritated him, he couldn’t fault them for it. Not when he would occasionally stop mid-sentence to hack away and be left gasping for air. 

The best were people who treated him the same as always. The perfect example was his dear friend Tubbo. Tommy could always depend on him to patiently wait for his coughing fit to finish before rambling on about his latest project without blinking an eye. Not that Tubbo didn’t care, far from it. He noticed the extra care and attention that was perhaps unconsciously given to him. There were occasional glimpses of sadness and concern that he tried to hide, but Tommy always caught onto each and every one.

No matter what, Tommy enjoyed spending time with his friends. It’s a shame that his closest friends were the ones that slowly killed him with each minute spent with them. That never stopped him, however, from spending every said possible minute with Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade, Hanahaki disease be damned.

Phil was always such a calming and steady force. He wasn’t what the fans believed a peaceful, all-knowing authority figure who knew all the answers- no. In fact, he was actually another instigator of chaos, always behind the three and ready to laugh at their antics and tease them. But that was what made him so comforting. He never asked Tommy who it was, or forced him to talk. He somehow seemed to know what Tommy needed and continued to speak and stream with him like before. When Tommy would begin to cough mid-scream, he would ask Phil to continue yelling for him, and after laughing for a bit, Phil would do exactly what he asked and more. 

He didn’t miss the extra attention and love Phil gave him, and he never pointed it out. He yearned for it desperately and secretly grasped for more. He preened under the praise he would receive for successfully annoying Wilbur or for making a funny joke. He let the warmth rise and wash over him, even if it made his lungs hurt even more. 

One particular fit left Tommy muting himself for a solid three minutes. Patiently waiting, Phil continued to rebuild Tommy’s base while talking to his stream.  
“Tommy’s fine chat, don’t worry. You know him. You can never get rid of the gremlin child. Underestimate him for one second and before you know it he’ll have a knife to your neck and ask for primes. Luckily for us, he is here to stay and we wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

The very same ‘gremlin child’ would watch the clip over and over later, smiling as tears pricked his eyes. The words made him feel so warm, so loved. But soon that warmth became a burning as he continued to cough petals over the bin. A few minutes later he quickly slipped back into the conversation, and like always, Phil welcomed him back without missing a beat.

Wilbur, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Opposed to Phil’s understanding and seamless interactions, he was pushy to the point of desperation. Private calls began with harmless jokes and ended with Wilbur angrily begging. Begging for him to at least tell someone, to get surgery, to do something- _anything_. At first, Tommy would lash out, raising his walls and reacting to Wilbur’s loud pleas with even louder screaming. Calls would always end with a tense silence until one of them gave in and apologized before leaving. Now, Tommy was resigned and let Wilbur cry it all out. He knew he needed it.  
He laughed at the fact that Wilbur was more emotional, more invested in the disease than himself, but he knows it’s because he cared. Wilbur was more like Tommy in the aspect of feeling so much, too much. If roles were reversed he was _certain_ he would do the same to Wilbur. So after all the yelling and tears, the two would just stay in the same call as Wilbur began to sing some songs for Tommy. They ignored the fact that Wilbur would stall for just a second every time he coughed.

Technoblade was strong and unwavering support, if not a bit awkward. It was as if the disease was a minor, unimportant detail in the major process of life. Tommy never thought he’d appreciate Techno calling him a nerd or an old man whenever he coughed after each laugh. He even joked how Techno was no longer the only one with a bad cough. It was a bit morbid, but they still laughed. He never ignored the disease, but he never let it change anything in ways that mattered. He joked around like Wilbur and continued to bully him like always, but everyone knew it was just another sign of affection. Almost everyone.

Some people began to rise up in anger at how Technoblade seemingly didn’t even care about him. Tommy shut that idea down almost _immediately_ , and he wasn’t the only one. It may not be clear to everyone, but Tommy could easily see that each and every action Techno made was seeped and covered in concern and worry, feelings that were he attempted to bury under his deep, monotonous voice. Techno himself didn’t even care about the anger in the small portion of the community.

‘ _After all, Tommy was more important to him than any of the fans or what they thought_ ’, Technoblade once told him mindlessly during a call. It made Tommy say a shaky, “thank you” before petals began to crawl out of his mouth and he had to mute. Techno just late out a shaky “bruh” in return and silently waited for Tommy to come back.

Besides, they weren’t there to witness the quiet calls where Techno would, against his social anxiety and awkwardness, quietly offer his help and guidance. Tommy accepted each offer with a hum and a nod but went no further. Techno would understand immediately and they would lapse into another comfortable silence as they worked.

And if Techno was constantly by Tommy's side giving him materials and fighting anyone for him, no one mentioned it. _(Well thousands did but that wasn’t important.)_

Every single interaction, no matter how big or small, left Tommy in shattered pieces. His throat screamed in agony with the lack of air as petals fought their way out of his lungs and out his mouth. He could barely speak at this point with his raw throat. 

Luckily, that was just another excuse for Tommy to avoid questions.

Tommy still hadn’t told a single soul about his flower and who they were dedicated to. It was a miracle that he was out of view when he first coughed up petals. No one knew what type of flower he coughed up, and Tommy was grateful. One quick search of Queen Anne’s lace would have made it painfully clear that his love wasn’t romantic. And it would’ve been mere child play to figure it out from there.

There were (mostly) quiet questions of who it was, but he refused to tell anyone, not even his own family. How do you explain to your parents that their child was dying because they loved another family the same way he loved his own parents? A family who doesn’t even have the heart to love him back? 

He also refused to take surgery, immediately shutting down any mention or talk about it, because this wasn't just a measly phase or fleeting emotion. This was a burning inferno that almost made up the entirety of Tommy. His strongest strength was his neverending passion, being sentimental and feeling too much to a fault. His attachments and emotions were what pushed him through fights, through the challenges and adversities. This was no different.

These people were his friends. Friends, so close he loved them as _family_. He would rather die than immediately feel nothing for his brothers and dad. He never called them those titles to their face, not in a serious, outright manner. But at night he would lie there, covered with petals that clung to his mouth and skin, and cry while he dreamt of a future where he did call them his family. Hands clenched his shirt as he whispered wishes and names, begging for them to stop the pain. Of course, no one ever responded. 

On days when his vocal cords gave up and refused to let him talk, he would just spend hours locked up in his room, rewatching old videos and compilations of every Sleepy Boi Inc. interaction. All the small jokes and references to them being a family piled up and became another flower for Tommy to cough up. He realized early on that his love was like an addiction. Despite the pain and promise of death that followed him each day, he would always, without fail or hesitation, take every opportunity to be with either Phil, Wilbur, Techno, or all at once. 

Sometimes, Tommy would feel guilty and spend the days with his own family. His parents were constantly wracked with stress and sorrow, and it was all his fault. After all, he refused to tell them anything and refused to even consider treatment. They were watching their son die and could do nothing about it. So Tommy would take breaks and just go to his parents. No matter what, they would drop what they were doing and easily accept Tommy into their arms and hold him, even if his lanky figure towered over them. He was far from the small baby he was years ago, but he was still their child to hold and love forever.

It was unfortunate that thoughts of his real family always somehow drifted to his own fictional family. Sometimes wishing that instead of his dad, it was Phil encasing him in his arms. Or perhaps Wilbur and Technoblade squishing him in between hugs. Consequently, it would bring about more coughing fits. It pained Tommy just as much as it pained his parents, and the guilt would rack up. He considered just locking himself up into his room to avoid the pain his coughing would cause, but he realized that being away from his parents only caused them to worry and cry more. So together, Tommy and his parents would hold each other tight with a sense of understanding and sorrow with dread for the future.

There was, however, another reason why he hadn’t told anyone else about his flowers.

It began when he first called Wilbur. It had ended in a screaming match and Tommy angrily left the call with tears streaming down his blotchy cheeks. His sobs of anger were quickly replaced with coughs as petals began to dribble out of his mouth again. He closed his eyes, waiting for it all to pass as he coughed into his palm. Instead of the small, dainty petals of Queen Anne’s lace, the petals in his hands were bigger, longer, and completely different. Opening his eyes, Tommy saw blue and curled petals, definitely a different flower.

A few online searches later, Tommy found that the petals were blue hyacinths, symbolizing playfulness and sincerity. He could sense the truth yet irony in the situation. Afterward, every interaction with Wilbur always led to a barrage of blue hyacinths. It irritated him how the long, curled petal got stuck at the edges and curves at his mouth, scratching the edges worse than the Queen Anne’s lace.

When he was on a call with Techno, he was almost expecting the unfamiliar tug at his lungs as a new flower spilled out of his lips. This time it was a petal from a blood-red carnation. Luckily the petal itself was not bloody- _yet_. Asking for a quick break, Tommy muted himself and made another search. Red carnations signified admiration and affection. How fitting for the Blade. These petals were wide and frilly, more soothing than the other flowers but annoying with how often it stuck to the walls of his throat. There was a short mention of how carnations were often paired with mothers. The mental image made him snort and laugh painfully as he rejoined the call. 

For Phil, the Queen Anne’s lace still made a reappearance, the familiar bits tumbling out of his mouth. He had three different flowers for his three different special people. And when Tommy was together with all three, the different flowers would merge together to make beautiful confetti of red, white, and blues. He thought of a funny, patriotic joke about L’manberg with the petals. It was a shame he had one to tell it to.

Each interaction filled Tommy's heart with so much warmth, but it also filled his lungs with flowers and eventually blood and thorns. He knew that doing this killed him even faster but this was his _family_ dammit. He didn’t know how this would all end, whether it would be a happy ending or him choking on blood as he died, but whatever it was, he knew it’s an ending he would have to live with.  


And so does everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of the main story is up! After this, the next chapters will all be different possible endings. Y'all can decide whether they should be happy or sad. I got a LOT planned :)
> 
> Check out my Tumblr @nkhaotic!


	3. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wasn't supposed to have three flowers. He wasn't supposed to talk to them each and every day. He wasn't supposed to love them as much as he did. He wasn't supposed to have _so little time_.

Tommy was running out of time. He wasn’t _supposed_ to be running out of time.

Hanahaki took months to slowly settle in and develop, usually taking its sweet time to grow and bloom from the victim’s own blood and pain. Every time someone had contact with the person they loved, the cursed plant would begin to grow faster and deadlier. The doctors estimated that Tommy himself had perhaps three months to live, hopefully more since the entire world was on lockdown for the pandemic. That limited the possible interactions he could have with his love, and would therefore slow down the disease. At least, it was supposed to.

The doctors didn’t account for Tommy throwing all caution to the wind and interacting with Phil, Wilbur and Technoblade daily. Nor did they realize he had not one flower, but _three_. It wasn’t a person he loved, but people. Plural. People that he spent almost every single hour each day spending time with because loved them as family.

The lockdown didn’t matter if he was already miles apart from them, but only a click away from hearing their voices or seeing their faces through a call. _That never stopped him from having hopeless dreams of warm hugs, gentle fingers combing through his hair, the feeling of them right by his side_. 

He was running out of time, so he decided to spend each and every second possible with his family; with Phil who he considered another father and his brothers, Wilbur and Techno. Even if it would always end up in agonizing pain, with him cutting his time even _shorter_ , Tommy without fail would call them each morning until night. He loved them too much to do otherwise.

Tommy stopped streaming, and he thought the world might end. Apparently, so did every social media platform as millions of people began to panic. He had no choice. Constantly coughing, muting, and moving out of view made for terrible content, after all. Even when he stopped using his camera, he was still forced to drop everything for a coughing fit, leaving his stream with no movement or sign he was alive. Needless to say, his viewers lost their _minds_. 

The most damning thing that truly killed the end of his streaming career ( _not the end, Tommy refused to let it end. It was just a break, that’s all-_ ) was the loss of his voice. He could still speak, just barely. His days of screaming or shouting were gone, leaving only hoarse whispers that still left his throat burning. No amount of water could soothe his lungs, only bringing up bursts of pain as it trickled over cuts. It was a slow descent, with Tommy speaking less and less until he eventually stopped and decided to save his words. If he were to speak through the thorns, the blood, and the flowers, he was gonna make each word worthwhile.

So Tommy stopped streaming, but he never stopped talking with his family. He still joined voice calls, even if they were streaming. Sometimes he would talk, but mostly he would join and mute just to listen to their voices. And every time, they would welcome him and his constant spamming of messages in Discord. If they couldn’t hear him scream, they could _see_ him scream through text.

They never had a guarantee that Tommy was even listening, with him being on mute and having no camera. If not for his messages and comments through text, they would have no sign of his presence. For all they knew, he could have been asleep or simply gone from his room. He actually did once fall asleep during a call, deathly tired from not being able to sleep last night. It was one of the bad nights where Tommy couldn’t sleep without being forced awake every few minutes as he choked on petals, not able to breathe. _He wondered what would happen if he never woke up, never coughed the petals out, and just stopped breathing-_. 

When Tommy startled awake, only a few hours had passed, and the other person on the call - Phil, was still talking to Tommy as if he never left.

Although at times he wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ say a word, they would always continue on and talk, even if there was no stream with an audience to listen. Just Tommy. And that made him _smile_.

Sometimes, Tommy would use his silence to his advantage. Questions were often avoided by simply saying nothing, and the other person had no choice but to move on. Too many times they pushed him to take action, to do _something_. If he was feeling kind, instead of the usual silence, he would respond with a quiet, “I have time”. And they believed him.

But that was a lie. The months he had left to live immediately became weeks, maybe only days. Tommy was supposed to have time, but he did not. With three different flowers, he would’ve been lucky if the process only _tripled_ in speed. But he had spent so much, too much, time with his brothers and his dad that life wasn’t too kind. The mere petals became fully bloomed flowers adorned with thorns and blood, signaling the last stage. There shouldn’t have been any thorns for two more months. They started appearing in only two _weeks_.

The day Tommy started coughing blood, it became clear. His time was almost up.

With every cough that followed each time he thought of his “family”, guilt swelled up from within as he thought about his real family. His own mum and dad. He was _dying_ , dying for a family that clearly did not see him as part of them. A family that did not love him like his real family did. If he died, he was certain it would break his parent’s hearts. He wondered if it would be the same for the others, if Phil would mourn the loss of a son like his father would, or if his brothers would notice the empty space. _He doubted it_.

So in the rare times where Tommy wasn’t with _either_ family, he would sit alone in silence in a room. With a pencil in one hand and paper in front of him, Tommy began to write. He would’ve typed them all on his computer, but he was afraid that his parents would never find them, perhaps erasing everything in his name out of grief. He wouldn’t blame them if they did. 

Instead, he went the cheesy route, scribbling messy words onto papers he would hide in drawers until it was time. He wrote letters upon letters to his parents. All the apologies and secrets he refused to tell. How many flowers he had. Who his flowers were for. Why he never told them. Why he loves them. _Why he’s sorry_.

The last thing Tommy wanted was for his parents to think he left the world without loving them. That was the furthest thing from the truth. The second to last thing he wanted to happen was for his parents to hate the others, to hate the Sleepy Bois Inc for stealing their child’s life, for not loving him back. None of it was their fault, the sole responsibility rested on Tommy’s and Tommy’s alone. Hopefully his parents understood. The same love they felt for him, he had loved back, just twice as much. If they truly loved him, they would understand how important it was to him, why he would die for this love. And die he probably would.

After a lot of hesitation, Tommy decided to write to the Sleepy Bois Inc as well. Letters upon letters just for Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade. He did owe an explanation after all. His death was not their fault, and he wanted to make sure they knew that fact. 

At first he wrote little meaningless messages, like things about his day or maybe a harmless insult or two. He was too scared to actually go deep until he decided ‘ _screw this_ ’ and began to spill an endless barrage of words from the deepest depths of his dying heart. Words of how he would replay Philza’s videos whenever he grew frustrated at his situation, how he stole a red paperclip from Wilbur’s office and held it in his hands for comfort, how Tommy would play Skywars on an alt account and mutter Techno’s quotes that he memorized by heart. How these things led to Tommy loving them as a family and how they _didn’t_ , but it was okay, he _promised_. 

He was certain there were endless mistakes and random nonsense amongst the mindless babble. He wondered what Mr. English major Technoblade would think of it. If he could laugh, he would have. And so Tommy wrote.

It was a normal day, only three weeks after the first petal, when Tommy felt it in his bones. The settled dread and resignation, followed by the slow, subtle beating of his heart. It was time.

The bin by his desk filled with Queen Anne’s lace, hyacinths, carnations, and blood. Blood that signified the end. With sluggish hands he pulled out a stack of papers, carelessly piled on top of each other, out of a drawer and placed it on his desk. Most of the papers were held together by a red paperclip.

Tommy decided to join them one last time, one last call. With a ring, he called Phil, Wilbur, and Techno. Almost instantly, they all answered. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even unmute. He could barely talk after all, and he doesn’t need to. Like clockwork, the three began to talk amongst each other, not bothering to question why they were here or what Tommy wanted. After all, it wasn’t the first time he randomly pulled them into the same call without a word. They knew he just wanted to listen to them talk. So they talked, and he listened.

Tommy sat there in his chair and listened as they did what they also did. He closed his eyes and rested his head back, voices filtering in and out his ears. Words began to blur.

The trio joked around, teasing each other. Wilbur’s high laughter cut through Techno’s sarcastic quip. Phil quickly laughed along as well. Finally, they tentatively asked Tommy a question.

“Hey Tommy, you wanna join us?”

Silence.

No response. An unsettled silence took over as the three waited for a voice or message that never came. Tommy’s icon remained muted, and no text was ever sent. Still, his icon remained green and online. Maybe he had another coughing fit and couldn’t answer. _Maybe_.

Phil decided to call Tommy’s mother. He’s had her number for a long time, they all did. At first it was to have contact with Tommy’s guardian for permission to do certain things. Now, they kept the number close to quietly ask about him behind closed doors. Tommy refused to tell them anything, and unfortunately, it was the same for his own parents. Together, they carried the same worry and concern over the child they had grown to love. Love as a family.

He put the call on speaker to let Techno and Wilbur hear as well. His phone rang for a bit before Tommy’s mum picked up. Like always, he asked about Tommy. Tommy who was supposed to be in his room, talking on discord with _them_ at that very moment, according to his mom. Tommy who was currently silent and not answering. 

From his end, Techno asked if she could check up on Tommy, but based on the quick footsteps picked up from the phone, they could tell she already was.

“Tommy? You in there?”

They heard a door open.

“Tommy’s still in his seat. Tommy are you-.”

They heard a scream. A scream of complete and utter terror, sorrow, and pain. So much pain. The call ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first ending: Time- Sad ending #1!
> 
> Sorry to anyone who wanted a happy ending, I'm starting with this one right off the bat! Since this one kind of ended in a cliffhanger, I might make a part 2 in the future. More endings to come. Will they be happy or sad ones? Only time will tell.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments or at Tumblr @NKhaotic!


	4. Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wanted to hide everything. He wanted to hide the truth behind the disease. He wanted to hide it all until he died and no longer had to hide.
> 
> So he hid, and he hid well.
> 
> So why did he have to be found?

Tommy tried so hard to hide the flowers, he truly did. The moment he realized he had _three_ separate flowers, one for each of his cherished people, he knew that _no one_ could know. Especially not Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade.

So Tommy hid. People may have underestimated him, viewing him as just a loud, brash child, and in many ways, he was. But he was also smart, incredibly so. It was his own ambition and intelligence that got him to where he stood now, and it was that very intelligence that Tommy utilized to hide any and every trace of the true extent of his Hanahaki disease.

Hundreds of thousands of people watched the livestream where he had a coughing fit, where Tommy admitted to coughing out a flower. Of course, this spread to millions of more people who all had the same conclusion. _Hanahaki Disease_.

What they didn’t know was the type, or even the amount, of flowers. He was away from the camera and out of view. _They didn’t know_ , and Tommy took full advantage of that. He had admitted online that, yes he had Hanahaki, that he couldn’t deny. He left out plenty of information, however. They didn’t need to know who it was for. They didn’t need to know that he was dying faster than he should have been, and Tommy was going to keep it that way.

The first thing he did was to stop streaming. Not all at once, no, that would have caused too much mayhem. Instead, he paced his slow extraction from streaming with how fast his disease was growing and how fast the Hanahaki disease would _normally_ progress. He planned to fake the true effect of the disease and pretend that he still had the many months left to live instead of the few weeks he had calculated. It was a bit hard to calculate considering he had three flowers instead of the typical one, especially since he had to account for the daily exposure to his loved ones that only sped the disease up even more. Still, Tommy planned everything out to every little detail, with so much attention and effort that it could even put Technoblade to shame.

The length of his streams slowly decreased and he made timed intervals where he could cough out the petals before they built up while a commercial played or during a bathroom break. He found methods of hiding the petals under his tongue or in his cheeks so that they were out of sight even when he screamed. And when he couldn’t scream, he hid behind the disguise of having a chill stream and just gathered resources or built another tower. No drama and no reason to yell.

The day he started to cough up blood, Tommy stopped wearing his signature shirts and decided to wear dark colors that could cover up the bloodstains. At this stage, Tommy shouldn’t have been able to even cough up fully bloomed flowers, especially not thorns and blood. When he finally decided to stop streaming, he covered up the real reason through the excuse of wanting to take a break from streaming since he was going into the second stage of the Hanahaki disease.

Only he knew that he was already past the third and well into the last stage.

Tommy worked endlessly with a frantic fervor to guarantee the success of his plan, and it worked. He managed to fool his parents ( _despite the guilt_ ) and even the doctors. Most importantly, he fooled his other family. The worried faces of the three when Tommy told them about the “progress” of his disease made him guiltily feel warm and bubbly from their attention and care. 

_He didn’t dare imagine what their faces would look like if he told them he had lied and would die in only a few weeks_.

Thanks to his plan, his fans also believed him, wishing him good luck and better health. Of course, they still panicked and mourned over his circumstance, but almost none of them suspected anything. Barely anyone had even a hint of Tommy’s quick approaching fate or that he loved not one person, but three.

_A few did, however, theorize. Just a simple, harmless idea or question. Tommy remembered when he stumbled upon fanart of him coughing up not one flower, but three. Flowers for Philza, Wilbur, and Technoblade. The scene was too reminiscent of reality, but the second image was no longer reality but his one true desire. It was a drawing of him surrounded by the three, by his family, and being loved back. There were flowers, not in his throat, but in little crowns that they all wore. It was so soft and so warm._

_Tommy had one of the worst coughing fits yet and his voice never sounded the same since_.

Tommy’s plan was working. No one knew and no one suspected anything. He did so well… until he didn’t.

The first time he made a mistake was on a video call with Phil. Tommy may have stopped streaming, but never stopped calling the other three, with or without a livestream and audience. It also made him smile when people would flood the three’s streams to get a glimpse of how Tommy was doing and boosted the viewer count. They deserved the attention. To Tommy, they deserved the world. At this current moment, however, there was no stream. No audience, no fans, just him and Philza.

Tommy wouldn’t have it any other way… that is until he began to cough. He thought he was careful, managing to suppress his feelings and the petals crawling up his throat until he had time to leave the call. But Philza, _the man he viewed as another father_ , slipped in a quick and simple, “son”, and Tommy was a goner.

The coughing fit came instantly, a punch to his throat that came hard and came fast. Tears began to fall as he convulsed and shook. He didn’t even have the time to leave the call or turn of his camera. Right in front of Philza, Tommy coughed out _dozens_ of Queen Anne’s Lace. Confetti of small, white petals shot out of his mouth, soon followed by complete bunches. The most Tommy could do was cover his mouth with his left hand right before the blood came and trickled out all over his palm. While Phil remained horrified at the other side of the screen, he quickly got a black handkerchief that he kept by his side for this very reason and wiped his mouth while pretending to just cough only petals. When the fit died down, he uttered a raspy, “wait” before he used his non-bloody hand to turn off the camera and immediately fled to the bathroom.

Like instinct, Tommy dumped a lot of liquid soap and began to aggressively scrub the blood off his hand. He was frantic, almost twitching at this point, as he desperately rubbed against his palms. Looking into the mirror in front of him, he could see blood smeared down his chin and his eyes were wide and shaking. _He couldn’t breathe_. 

Tommy realized he was panicking, and tightly gripped the edges of the sink as he tried to calm down. Phil- Phil saw the flower. He saw the petals and the full bunches, a clear sign he was in stage two. But he didn’t see the blood, Tommy was certain. That was one blessing that life allowed.

 _He could work with that_.

When his breathing finally became even, he let go of the sink and turned off the water he accidentally left on. There were no more traces of blood in the water and he made sure to clean his face. He could do nothing about his red eyes or raspy voice, but it was enough. Mustering up what little confidence he had left, he resigned to his fate and returned to the call and unmuted. He kept the camera off.

“Phil… I’m back.” Tommy winced at how quiet his voice was, but being any louder was too painful.

“... _Tommy_.” 

Tommy took it back. Any pain he had ever felt could not _compare_ to the stab in the heart he felt when he heard Phil’s choked sob thick of sorrow and desperation. He was even quieter than Tommy and sounded like _he_ was the one hurt as if he was the one who had thorns and blood clawing at his throat. He would do anything if he could guarantee that Phil never sounded so _pained_. He wondered if this was how Phil currently felt towards him.

Not wanting to hear Phil’s pained voice, Tommy spoke instead. If he spoke first, he could control the information given. _He also never wanted to hear Phil sound like that ever again_. He talked about what type of flower it was, Queen Anne’s Lace. He described how it meant sanctuary and how the person he loved made him feel safe, made him feel loved and at home. _All of that was true_. 

And if Tommy had phrased his wording to make it sound like the love was romantic instead of familial, only he had to know. If Phil believed in an imaginary person who Tommy loved romantically, then it was for the best. Only he knew that him being only on stage two of the disease was a complete _lie_. 

Phil throughout Tommy’s explanation was silent. It made him nervous but also grateful for the lack of questions. Instead, it was Tommy who asked a question.

“Phil. Please, can you just- can you promise not to tell anyone? _Please_?” Tommy asked- no _begged_ , with his hoarse voice.

Phil finally spoke up, “Of course. Anything for you Tommy.” His voice matched Tommy’s sounding both quiet and raspy, but sorrow instead of pain.

“Thank you.”

Tommy ended the call, and he felt so _drained_. He had worked so hard to keep everything a secret from everybody, but just a mere call of “son” had ruined everything. Well, maybe not. Phil had vowed to keep it a secret, and Tommy trusted him with all of his life and more.

Phil vowed to keep it a secret, and he did. _That didn’t stop Phil from researching everything he could about Queen Anne’s Lace, trying to see if there was something- anything he could do. He got nothing but pieces of history and scientific facts._

 _Did you know that Queen Anne’s lace looked similar to, and is constantly confused with Poison Hemlock_?

If life was kind, that would have been the one and only mistake. _It wasn’t_.

The second mistake was almost a perfect repeat of the first, only this time it wasn’t with Phil. It was with Technoblade.

It was a late night and Tommy was on a call with Techno. He stayed in the call as Techno streamed and played Minecraft, but the stream had ended long ago and it was just the two idly talking while Techno concentrated on the game. 

Unlike the call with Phil, there was no sudden fit or burst of pain. Instead, it was a slow trickle, a build-up Tommy felt and knew was coming, and he let it. If Tommy resisted each and every petal, the pain would probably kill him. He found that it was just best to let it come and go when you could. Learned that the hard way.

So as Tommy listened to Techno, he could feel the flowers slowly travel up his throat. Each silly quip, sarcastic comment, random English reference Tommy didn’t understand, each and every word just brought the flowers closer and closer. So when the flowers came, Tommy quickly muted and coughed out some red carnations that were drenched in blood.

“I-is that blood?!” Techno’s sharp yet panicked voice cut through his headphones.

Tommy froze. He looked up at the screen. _Oh god_. He didn’t mute. He turned his camera on. The frilly red petals of carnations were painfully visible and in direct sight. He looked over to Techno’s camera that displayed his game instead of his face. Even if the camera was on, he should’ve been too busy to notice instantly.

There on the screen, Tommy could see Techno’s character stood still by the spider spawner, the sounds completely muted. Waiting and free to give all of his attention. _How long was he there for_? Had Tommy really been so distracted he never noticed?

“Tommy. You shouldn’t be coughing blood that- that’s the last stage.” Techno’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, Tommy took all of his panicked thoughts and mess of emotions and shoved them away. He had to focus.

“Well of course I shouldn’t be coughing blood, and I’m not. My flower is a red carnation, not blood. You need better glasses man.” The words slipped past his lips easily, faster, and more smoothly than air at this point. Tommy was good at acting, good at _lying_. He had to if he even hoped to keep this charade up for so long.

There was a tense silence. Tommy pretended to act all casual and annoyed, but he had no clue on what Techno could have been thinking. There was no sound, and his camera was just the game. Finally, Techno spoke.

“You do know carnations are commonly tied to mothers, right? Is your girl a mother hen?” Technoblade’s voice was monotone but it was clear to Tommy that he was trying to make a joke, even if it was as awkward as Techno.

Tommy laughed. It was an ugly, high-pitched laugh that sounded airy from the pain. The image of Technoblade being a mother hen was absolutely hysterical to him. Leave it to Techno to know random flower facts. The joke was awkward, painfully so, but that was just what made Techno so endearing. The joke was a way to break the tension, and Tommy grabbed it like a lifeline and moved on. Techno would never tell anyone something that wasn’t his to tell, and Tommy knew that.

 _Techno wouldn’t admit it but the moment it was confirmed Tommy had Hanahaki, he had scoured through the internet learning as much as he could. He had absolutely nothing to go off of, but that wouldn’t stop him. Not with something so important. Carnations were just one of the many flowers he researched, and if after the call he had over thirty tabs about carnations alone, that was for him and only him to know_.

The third mistake was his worst, and the very last. He was on a call with Wilbur when it all went down the drain. Tommy was so stressed that day about school and the problems with his channel that he called Wilbur. It probably wasn’t the best move to involve him when he was a problem all in itself, but Wilbur was someone who he looked up to, an older brother who guided and helped him despite all the teasing. If there was anyone who could help, Wilbur was one of the best choices, Hanahaki be damned.

And he was right. Half an hour later and still on the call, Tommy was considerably less stressed and was now listening to Wilbur giving quiet yet constant assurances. It was a dangerous game staying in the call and listening to him give so much love. His lungs were already roaring, the thorns stabbing his throat and threatening to burst with flowers. But how could he ever leave when Wilbur was saying sweet words of how proud and happy he was for Tommy?

_He couldn’t._

_But he had to_.

Tommy could feel the flowers building up, ready to explode in a firework of petals. His finger hovered over the leave button, about the disconnect from the call. It would be abrupt but Wilbur would understand. He just had to press it, just had to leave.

“-And you know Tommy, we joke about it all the time but we really do view you as our younger brother- or son in Phil’s case. No matter how annoying you are we are all always _so proud of you_ ”. 

_It was too late_.

Tommy detonated. He was right to compare the flowers to a firework. Petals burst from his lips in an explosion of patriotic red, white, and blue. Queen Anne’s lace, red carnations, and blue hyacinths all fluttered and fell to the ground, joined with splatters of blood and bunches of thorns. It _hurt_ so much and Tommy clawed at his throat as he cried silent tears, unable to make a noise as flowers and leaves erupted from his mouth. 

He didn’t even notice Wilbur’s horrified screams and panic as he lost it. Before Tommy knew it, Phil and Techno were dragged into the call and bore witness to the horrifying scene of Tommy covered in petals, blood, and thorns. All the different flowers were out on display.

Almost instantly they barraged him with words of concern, of worry, of pained panic. They were shouting and screaming and it echoed around his room.

How could it get so bad, this was the last stage Tommy? I thought you had more time Tommy? Why were there multiple flowers Tommy? Tommy. Tommy! 

_Tommy_.

There was so much- too much, and Tommy felt like he was drowning, and he was. Instead of water in his lungs, it was endless petals and blood and he couldn’t _breathe_. Through the tears in his eyes, he could see their faces on the screen. Their faces were still mortified and hysterical with panic. One of them might have been screaming at a phone, but he wasn’t too sure. He was sure of one thing, however.

 _He was dying_. 

Tommy was dying and he was dying in front of the people who he loved as a family, the people who these very flowers were for. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die in front of them. _He didn’t want to die in front of them without telling them how much he loved them_.

So through the petals and the pain, Tommy began to speak. It was mostly nonsensical babble, words that could barely leave his lips. Word of how he loved them, oh how he loved them so much. Loved them as a family he valued and cared for so deeply in his heart that his body was destroying itself because he knew. He knew that they didn't love him like that. He was just a _stupid, annoying_ child who believed too hard in this fantasy of a family. Words of how foolish he was to actually yearn for a gimmick, a bit, an act meant for the viewers.

 _He loved them and they didn’t love him back, but that was okay_.

Tommy didn’t know how much he actually managed to say and how much they heard, but it didn’t matter. There's too much, too much in his head, and not enough breath. Black spots began to cover his vision and he cried even harder. This was it.

As he blacked out, Tommy thought he could almost hear screams of how much they loved him, loved him like family. He didn’t believe it, but it was a nice last thought.

Everything went dark.

Tommy woke up inside a hospital. He knew this the moment he opened his heavy eyes and was met with bright white walls. White walls that showed up in his nightmares filled with his biggest fear. Fear of having surgery. Fear of having his love taken away. He laid on the stiff hospital bed for a moment before he realized with increasing panic that there was no more pain. There was no longer the crushing pain from the flowers and thorns growing inside his body, just empty space. His lungs had air and there were no more petals stuck in his throat. _He could finally breathe_.

But Tommy felt no joy, not even relief or satisfaction. Did- did he undergo surgery? He was dying. _He was supposed to be dead and he wasn’t_. Did they save his life for the price of the emotions he treasured? Did they take away his- no they couldn’t, they can’t have. _Please no-_.

He cared too much about them, loved them too much that he would rather die. Please he loved them so much they were his family-.

Tommy stilled. He- he still loved them, he still cared. He still had his feelings. He didn’t have surgery.

Before Tommy could ponder more, the door slammed open and his parents entered the room. They looked at him and already had tears pouring down their faces. His cheeks felt wet, and to his surprise, he realized that he was crying himself. In a blink, his parents were by his side and they hugged him tightly and he hugged back even _tighter_ because he was _sorry. So sorry_. He was so close to leaving this world without even saying goodbye to his real family, a family he loved just as much as the other three. His own parents that he loved since he was born. A family that loved him just as much back. They didn’t deserve the pain and problems Tommy carried and caused. He was _sorry_.

They cried and cried and it’s all that they seemed to do. Between his sobs and tears, Tommy apologized. He apologized because he almost left them. He may have loved Phil, Wilbur, and Techno as a family, but that didn’t mean he loved his real ones any less. And his parents, _his amazing, loving parents_ , they understood. They understood, and so did the people waiting outside the door.

A knock interrupted the family, and Tommy looked up from within his parent’s embrace. By the door were three more people, three very familiar faces. With matching red and blotchy eyes, Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade stood by the door. Suddenly, his parents had let go of him with brief kisses to his head and whispers of assurances before they left the room and gave the four privacy.

They were all there in the room, surrounding Tommy who was pale, so sickly and weak on white sheets that made him seem even paler. He looked like he was dead. He almost was dead. They were by the door until they weren’t. Just like his parents, they were by his side holding him close. So strongly yet so carefully, as if he would break.

Once more they told him of how much they loved him, _truly_ loved him. The words of love he heard before he blacked out were real. Their _love_ was real. 

And this time, Tommy believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second ending: Hide - Happy ending #1!
> 
> Finally something happy whoooo! Sorry this was so long I didn't realize that I wrote so much before even going into the important bits so now y'all get almost 4k words of sadness. 
> 
> This ending actually veered a bit off my original idea. In that idea, when Tommy reveals all three flowers in front of the three, his coughing fit actually stops and he is able to officially tell them everything and how much he loved them. Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade then try to tell Tommy that they love him back, but he doesn't believe them and goes into another coughing fit that almost kills him. The hospital scene is about the same tho. (Also did you notice the extra-long space? Wondered what would've happened if I just stopped there...)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! More endings to come! Also if you have suggestions or asks please comment or go to my tumblr @NKhaotic!


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to Hide - Happy Ending#1
> 
> Basically the previous ending but this time, Tommy gets to talk more about his feelings before he almost dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending is heavily based and is related to the previous chapter so please read that first if you haven't or already forgot! This happens at the end of the chapter and replaces some of the events but not all. Same ending but slightly different!

He was on a call with Wilbur when it all went down the drain.

Due to some careless mistakes, Phil and Technoblade already knew about his flowers. Correction, they knew about _a_ flower. 

Tommy considered it a miracle for them to only have witnessed a single type of flower slipping past his lips, even if they were different types of flowers for each. They knew more than he was comfortable with, but they each believed that he had only one flower and only one love. And that’s how Tommy wanted it to stay. If they were to ever exchange and cross their knowledge, it would be painfully clear that he had more than one, but he trusted them to keep it a secret. 

Wilbur, on the other hand, he didn’t trust _at all_ , and for good reason too. It’s not that he didn’t love Wilbur, he had _endless_ petals and blood to vouch for that. But it was Wilbur himself, his own stubborn personality and willingness to take action, that scared Tommy. If he were to ever find out Tommy’s secret, he would do what he believed was for the best and probably tell his parents, maybe even Techno and Phil. Even if Tommy begged him not to tell anyone, Wilbur would go against him and do anything if it meant saving his life.

And god was Tommy right.

He had already been on a call with Wilbur for a while. For an hour or two, the older man had tried to calm Tommy down after he broke down from stress and frustration. The weight of school, handling his channel, his fans, and of course his fatal fate, all tipped the scale heavily onto the side of despair and pushed tears through his eyes. 

But like always, Wilbur was there for him. He tried to lift the mood through stupid jokes and commentary and like a charm, it worked on Tommy perfectly. His angry sobs washed away into small sniffles and occasional hiccups. He always was weak to Wilbur.

It was a peaceful moment, with Tommy finally calming down and listening to Wilbur’s soft and quiet assurances. For this one rare moment, he believed that everything was fine. He had everything under control.

So it was a surprise to them both when Tommy hiccupped and out came a blue hyacinth petal. The long curled petal floated in the air for a quick second before it fell onto the floor. 

Then everything went to chaos.

“I’m going to call Phil and Techno.” Wilbur immediately said, his voice tense but clearly panicked.

“Woah woah Wilbur hold on please let’s talk about this-”

“We will talk about this!”, Wilbur interrupted. “With Phil and Techno! They- they deserve to know about this too. I’m sorry Tommy but we care too much about you and you need to start talking.”

Tommy almost beamed at the statement but ignored the warmth bubbling in his body as panic overtook him. “Wilbur please it’s fine it's just a petal you know I have Hanahaki it’s not a big deal-”.

Tommy couldn’t finish before coughs began to rack his body violently. This time, more hyacinths fell out of his mouth… along with some blood.

“What the _fuck_ Tommy is that blood!” He heard Wilbur shriek in his headphones.

“Wait what’s this about blood.” That wasn’t Wilbur. Tommy looked up to see both Philza and Technoblade alongside Wilbur on his screen, Phil being the one who just spoke. “Coughing up blood is a sign of stage _four_ Tommy you’re supposed to just be going to stage _two_.”

Tommy winced. He wasn’t getting out of this one, was he? 

“So the other day when you called me and coughed out flowers, it wasn’t just the red carnations, was it? You were coughing blood too.” Technoblade cut in. His tone was slightly accusatory but mostly concerned. Tommy just grimaced even more.

“Wait. Red carnations? I thought Tommy’s flowers were Queen Anne’s Lace, those little white flowers?” Phil sounded confused, and looking at the screen, he could see him giving Tommy a somewhat apologetic look for telling his secret. Tommy couldn’t fault him in this situation.

“No no no, it wasn’t a small white flower,” Wilbur cut in tensely, “it was this long, blue flower. Tommy, show them.”

Tommy shook his head and gripped his arms tightly. This was too much. Everything went so wrong. They knew. _They knew._

A soft voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Tommy please… show us the flower.” Wilbur’s voice was desperate, but it was so much like his soft, assuring voice that he used to comfort him and Tommy listened without much thought. He picked up a slightly bloody hyacinth and lifted it hesitantly in front of the camera for all to see. 

The red splatters of blood contrasted against the blue, curled petals, and Tommy thought it looked quite pretty. Based on their horrified faces, they probably didn’t think the same.

He looked away from the screen and instead focused on the flower he twirled between his fingers. Everything was just _too much_. Tuning out the panicked whispers and voices, Tommy lost himself in the constant motion of the flower. If he twirled the flower fast enough, he could see the blood flick off the petals and splatter onto his lap.

“-my. Tommy!” Tommy lifted his head and was met with three pairs of eyes staring intensely at him. “Tell us honestly Tommy,” Philza asked slowly. “Do you have three flowers?”

Tommy hesitated but then nodded. He couldn’t lie anymore. 

“That means there are three people you love. Queen Anne’s lace, carnations, hyacinths,” Techno listed off. “Tommy… are these flowers for us?”

There it was. Even if he didn’t say anything, he knew it was clear. They all knew it. _They knew_. But instead of the overwhelming grief or panic he expected, all Tommy felt was a strange calmness, almost as if he was slightly numb. Maybe it was acceptance. He nodded and opened his mouth.

He was tired of hiding.

“I love you guys,” Tommy whispered, only to be met with silence. He dropped the flower onto his lap and clenched his fists hard. The words were like acid and hurt more than all the thorns and flowers ever did. _Why was this so hard?_

Tommy continued on even against the blood gathering in his throat. “I love you three... as a family. It’s what they call familial love. Storge? I don’t- I don’t really know. These flowers are for each of you because I _love each_ of you.... _I’m sorry_.” He choked out the last bit and covered his mouth with one hand as blood began to trickle past his lips, mixing with the tears that had begun to fall.

“Oh Tommy… you don’t have to be sorry-”

“Yes I do!” Tommy interrupted with a scream. Don’t they understand? Could they not see the obvious truth? Was he so pitiful that even they would feign obliviousness to this extent?

Of course he was sorry! It was his fault that he loved the three as a family, loved them beyond what it should have been. A false idea of a family formed by the fans and carefully constructed just for them. It was his fault to fall in love with an idea that was just a mere fantasy. They weren’t even a _real family_.

He was just a _child_. A child so greedy and selfish that he wanted and yearned for another family and when they didn’t love him back, he decided to burden everyone by dying. A child who was dying and bringing everyone down with him. That’s all he really was, wasn’t he? 

_A burden._

People would pity and baby him because he was dying and he deserved _none_ of it. He wanted none of their fake emotions unless it was from the three because even if it was fake, even if it _hurt_ , their love was all he ever wanted.

And now they knew. They knew that he loved each one of them. Phil, Wilbur, Technoblade. He loved them and now he gave them another burden to carry. They now carried the conscious that a child was dying because they didn’t love him back and it wasn’t fair. They didn’t deserve any of this, only him.

Because he loved them and they didn’t love him back and that wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. And he was _sorry._

Tommy ran out of breath, and only now just realized that he was rambling everything out loud. The words out in the open for all to hear. For _them_ to hear.

But all he heard was silence. It was a silence that continued to pierce Tommy’s heart as he continued to hide his sobs to no avail. The silence was a clear sign of rejection, wasn’t it? Tommy had always expected it but that didn’t take away any of the pain. 

The pain of rejection was far worse than the pain of the thorns wrapped around and stabbing his lungs. The Hanahaki disease truly was fitting for unrequited love.

“Oh Tommy...” Phil’s voice was barely heard through his headphones, and Tommy barely resisted the urge to take it off and throw them across the room. He knew what was coming. The silence was horrible but forming the rejection into words would make things unbearable. Everything would be too real. But he kept it on, waiting for their voices even if he knew of the pain that would inevitably follow. After all, he had been doing the same thing for months, joining calls and watching old videos of them repeatedly even if he would spend an hour bent over and gasping for air. He would always listen to them, even if he might die as a result. That would never change, and Tommy hated himself for that. Always him, but never them.

“ _Never_ be sorry for loving us when we love you just as much.” 

Tommy froze in place and glanced at the screen. There were no stone-cold faces or looks of pity that he always imagined in his nightmares. No disgust or awkwardness. Nothing.

Nothing but faces of pure sorrow, pain, and most of all… love?

They all looked a mess, crying just as much as he was. Their eyes were splotchy and red and full of falling tears. Wilbur’s hair was a mess, messier than usual from him pulling his hair in frustration and pain. Techno was aggressively trying to wipe his tears but his attempts were futile as more and more tears replaced them.

Then there was Phil, eyes just as red and wet as the rest of them. But he was smiling. A sad, shaking smile but a smile nonetheless. A warm smile just like the ones he would give Tommy whenever he was proud of something he did, no matter how small it was.

“Tommy, I know for a fact I speak for us all when I say we love you. With _all_ of our hearts. As a younger brother, as a son, as a family.” His voice was so warm, sounding just like how it would be in his dreams where he imagined a reality where they all _were_ a family. It sounded like it was full of warmth, passion, and _love_.

“Is- is that even a question Tommy? Of course we love you, always have and always did.” Technoblade’s voice was broken and hoarse, so emotional and so unlike his usual monotone voice. It was something he never heard before. His strong, steady voice was reduced to a mess as he cried through his words. Tommy still couldn’t comprehend anything.

“God fucking dammit Tommy are you serious? You were dying because you thought we didn’t love you?! Do you know how many times I called you my little brother? I meant it _each and every_ time you idiot.” Wilbur was laughing through his tears, near hysterical. Hands pulled at his hair as sobs wracked throughout his body. “We love you Tommy. More than anything else. We love you as a family.”

Tommy blankly sat there in his chair and stared at the screen in front of him, gaze reaching all of them and none of them at once.

They… they loved him? They _loved_ him? As a family?

It was too good to be true. It _had_ to be too good to be true. Tommy’s breath quickened but too little air came in and too many flowers came out. His eyes grew wide with tears and panic as he scratched at his chest for air. 

But his hands were shaking and his vision grew blurry. The voices in the headphones barely reached him. He felt warmth, only for a brief moment. But now all he felt was a _burning_ sensation almost melting through his skin. It burned it burned _it burned_.

Blood and thorns left his mouth but all he could focus on were their words. _Love_ ? They didn’t love him. They couldn’t have loved him. He refused to believe any of their words. He should have just continued hiding, hiding everything from the world. Hiding his secret, hiding his love, hiding _himself_.

He wanted to hide and never be found.

Tommy blacked out.

Tommy woke up in the hospital, and everyone had found out.

His doctors found out about the true extent of his disease and managed to save him and stabilize his health as the plant withered and died inside him. It had died the day he told everything, just moments before it could kill him. They were glad he was found.

His parents found out and they came into his hospital room to remind him that they loved him just the same and always would. They cried tears of joy and tears of sadness for their son who was so close to death but was miraculously alive. They were glad he was found.

His family found out, the very first ones in fact to learn everything. Technoblade, Wilbur, and Philza. The three were the ones who called his parents in a panic as they watched their son and brother begin to die in front of their very eyes, only to be whisked away by panicked parents and paramedics. 

They were the three that found out that Tommy had survived, all of them cramped into white, hospital hallways waiting for news. News that was thankfully good news of his improved health and no longer existing disease. 

They were the ones that found Tommy so small and so pale in the hospital bed, still crying from his interaction with his parents. Tommy who was now crying because they were all here in the same room. All here for _him_. Finally, they were all together as a family, and they would stay that way now and forever. They were glad he was found.

Tommy tried to hide, but he was found.

_He was found._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second ending Part two: Found - Happy ending #1.5!
> 
> Hiya! This was the original idea behind the happy ending but it deviated a bit when I wrote it so I decided to make an alternate ending of my alternate ending because why not? If I have time I might post another chapter tomorrow but this week is a VERY busy week for me so it depends. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this little bit!
> 
> Go check out my tumblr @NKhaotic! I even drew more Tommy! Hanahaki art to go with this fic so check it out!


	6. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy loved his family, and they loved him. They would do anything for their child.
> 
> _Anything._

Tommy loved his family, of course he did. He loved his parents, and they loved their son. They were a  _ family _ .

Tommy loved his mother. His mother who would often stay up hours past midnight to make sure he was well fed and rested after his streams. His mom who would change her work schedule just so Tommy never had to be home alone. His mother who supported him and his choices but also made sure to ground him to reality.

He was a successful streamer with thousands of fans, yes, but he was still a sixteen year old who had a real life to go back to. Even if he was streaming, she would not hesitate to call him out and tell him to tend to his responsibilities in real life. Almost instantly, Tommy would drop everything and listen, even if he mixed in a fake complaint or two. 

They both knew that he never minded. 

It was thanks to her that Tommy grew up as the intelligent and charismatic boy he was today, and she would forever be proud. And without his mother, he would never have been able to maintain this life of streaming and success, and he would forever be grateful.

So when the night was dark and he was still up and awake, Tommy would try his best to stay quiet despite his usual loud self. Whether it was letting his dog out or having late night calls, he would hold back the power in his voice that ached to escape and remained silent.

He  _ had  _ to be quiet. The last thing he wanted was to disturb his mother. Not when she had an early shift the next morning just so she could be home in time to help Tommy before he streamed. Not when she stayed up late organizing his finances and his future plans.

His mother deserved her rest, and everything else, for all she had done for him. And if Tommy had the chance, he would make sure she received the world.

Tommy loved his father. His father who immediately supported his decision to stream from the very start. His father who listened to his problems at school and the panic he felt when everyone found out the first time. His father who would watch his streams and congratulate him at the end without fail.

Tommy was so proud of what he accomplished so far, and his dad was even prouder. Even if his dad knew half of the words he would spout, he would always be ready to listen. It was what led to Tommy jumping out his seat and sprinting of the room mid-streams just to shout with absolute joy of the biggest milestone or goal he had just reached.

Each and every time, his father would open his arms wide for Tommy and hold him close for a few, precious seconds before pushing him back to the room for his waiting fans.

While his dad might at times forget the times he was streaming, or could never understand his lifestyle, Tommy was alright. They always compromised. Even if his dad would accidentally start drilling during his stream, or when Tommy’s screams could be heard during his father’s company calls, it was always forgiven and forgotten.

Tommy loved his parents, and his parents loved him. They were a family. 

But Tommy also loved another family. A family that he wished to one day be a part of. A family of three that he hoped would become four.

He had his mother, his father, and even his dogs. But Tommy was selfish, and he wanted more.

He wanted Phil, his father figure who was basically his second father. 

Wilbur and Technoblade, the brothers he never had. Brothers in every way but blood.

Tommy felt guilty. He couldn’t help but love another family, to the extent of forming a fatal flower born from unrequited love. But that didn’t change his love for his real family. His family that he could say with all of his heart loved each other,  _ loved him back _ . And there was nothing that could change that.

Not even a fatal disease.

Tommy loved his parents, and his parents loved him. So much that he was willing to die for them. But the same went for his parents.

_ If you were a parent with a child dying in your own arms, what would you do? _

If you were Tommy’s parents, forced to stand by and watch as your one and only child broke down from the inside as they were being killed. If you had to listen to your son cough up endless blood as they refused to speak or tell you anything. If you had to hold your child close as the days went by and his time came closer to an end.

What would you do?

For Tommy’s parents, the answer was  _ anything _ .

So when his parents found Tommy, collapsed in the bathroom with  _ too many _ flowers and  _ too much blood _ , they made a choice. 

When Tommy first discovered about the Hanahaki disease, he told his parents after the shock of the discovery had left and the cold truth had settled in. A small part of him entertained the small possibility of his parents not believing him, but that was just a foolish thought.

The moment he entered the room, they knew instantly something was wrong. Maybe it was the way Tommy hunched in beyond his normal slouch, or the way his footsteps were unbelievably light as if he was trying to hide his presence. Maybe it was the way he just looked so  _ broken _ , but the moment the bad news left his lips, his parents had trusted him without any doubt and rushed him to the hospital.

From there, the family was given three options. Undergo surgery, have the love become requited, or death.

When the doctors mentioned the last option, Tommy’s grip on his parents hands tightened, and they squeezed his hands back. All of their hands were trembling.

_ They would not let their child die _ .

The biggest problem was that their child; sweet,  _ sweet _ Tommy, refused to let a single word about who his flowers were for. All questions and attempts to find out were blocked by a hard wall of refusal. Not a single hint escaped his desperate prison of secrets. Tommy was bright and brilliant, but _ oh so stubborn _ .

Despite living in the same house, despite spending so much time together, no one, not even his parents, got a single glance at his flowers. Each cough was hidden and carefully calculated. Petals were kept in his mouth until he could dispose of them, and even if they tried to look in the trash, Tommy would have already emptied the trash bags and thrown away all evidence.

It frustrated his parents to no end. It made no sense to them why he would lock his secrets deep inside of his heart, barring everyone including his own parents. It was his  _ life _ at stake. 

They were willing to do anything to help. If they had to walk up to the person foolish enough to not love their dear child the way they should have and strangle them into submission, they would do so in a heartbeat. But how could they if they knew nothing?

They wanted so badly to help their dying child, but he refused to let them know a single thing. The fact that he refused to let them help, that he didn’t trust them enough to know, pained them just as much as it hurt to see Tommy slowly becoming a shell of his usual self. Oh their sweet child…

_ They refused to let him die _ .

If Tommy refused to take any step towards requited love, the only option they would accept was surgery. 

But if Tommy was adamant in hiding his secrets, his refusal to undergo surgery would go against even the strongest of storms. Each attempt at coaxing or begging him to take action was met with hysterical screaming and burning anger. Anger at the very thought or suggestion of taking surgery.

Surgery meant the removal of the fatal plant growing inside of him, but it also meant the removal of every single emotion possible towards the intended person. In the worse case scenario, surgery could even lead to the removal of memories.

The very thought was frightening. Their deepest of fears painted the image of Tommy waking up from surgery, only to feel nothing towards them. For their child to lose all emotions towards them, the thought was heartbreaking. Even though they knew it wasn’t them,  _ it couldn’t have been them for they loved him with all of their heart _ , the very idea would often scare them to tears.

They couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be Tommy’s love. To see the boy who once regarded you with all of their love and life to now look at you with absolutely  _ nothing _ . No love, no hatred,  _ nothing _ .

_ They deserved it, _ they thought.  _ They didn’t love him back, they don’t deserve his love _ .

It was obvious why Tommy would refuse, but his parents refused to stand by. Tommy could curse and hate his parents for the rest of his life, but they were willing to bear his hatred as long as he was alive to do so. 

So left in a standstill between desperate parents and a stubborn, dying child, all they could do was wait. And wait they did. They had months left for one side to overcome. Months until the decision was out of their hands.

They had time.

So why did his parents enter their bathroom to only be met with the sight of their child surrounded with a garden of flowers, floors barbed with thorns and slick with blood?  There should not have been a single speck of blood, or even a hint of a thorn for many more weeks. So why did they cover their precious child from head to toe while he laid still and unmoving on the ground?

He was luckily only passed out, still alive. But for how long?

In the middle of the day with the sun to bear witness, two parents brought their child to the hospital. Within less than an hour, endless papers were signed, and the doctors prepped for surgery.  There was no consent. Tommy would never agree to take the surgery, but his choice in this matter was overruled. He was just a minor, and his parents had the final say. He wasn’t even conscious to fight against the decision.

None of them wanted this outcome, but their hand was forced to deal their last card. Tommy was just a child. He didn’t deserve to have his life taken away so young. He still had a life left to live, and if this life had to be void of the emotions he held for his love, then so be it.

In the last few moments before Tommy went into surgery, a small memory nagged at the back of his mother’s mind. She had remembered Tommy’s schedule to heart, actually helped make and organize it in fact, and knew that he was meant to partake in a stream with other people a few minutes ago.

She knew her child. Most importantly, she knew that he was very close to the three he was meant to stream with. He valued them extremely and viewed them with utmost affection and respect. She knew that they were important to him, and she hoped that it was the same for them. 

With this in mind, she sent a text before turning off her phone and continued waiting for the surgery.

_ If only she knew the extent of his love. _

Phil was half an hour into his stream and in the middle of a call with Wilbur and Technoblade when he received a text. It was from Tommy’s mother.

“Hey guys! Tommy is going to get the surgery today. He’s going to be fine and will hopefully join us again soon!” Phil announced happily to the others and the viewers.

The chat was ecstatic, the trio even more so. All of them had been worried sick for Tommy’s health, and his decline in streaming didn’t help. Techno, Wilbur, and Phil of course knew more than the rest. They had constant contact with his parents and constantly worried for him. Surgery guaranteed a recovery and his life.

The relief the news gave the three was unmeasurable. For too long had they spent days and nights anxious and worried over Tommy. Each cough and wheeze sent sharp pains to their chest as if they had the disease themselves. The boy was precious to each of them. He was like a brother to them, perhaps even like a son in Phil’s case.

Phil himself had moments where he would grieve over the circumstance, with Kristen by his side as she supported him. The idea of his son dying… it  _ broke _ him. They weren’t even related by blood, but the thought of Tommy just one day disappearing, being  _ gone _ , left a hole in his heart where the boy had shoved and clawed his way into.

Tommy would live, and that was all that mattered.

Phil received a donation.

‘So glad Tommy is safe. I do feel bad for the person he was in love with. After the surgery, Tommy will no longer feel any emotions for them. I heard at times you could even lose all memories of the person.’

But Technoblade had just killed a person in the game and Wilbur began to scream something while Philza laughed in response. The donation was left unheard and forgotten.

A few days later, a notification came from Twitch. Tommy started streaming. Almost instantly, thousands and thousands of people immediately joined, instantly bringing Tommy to the most viewers on Twitch at that given moment.

People were both desperate and excited to finally see him. As his health declined, he began to break away from streaming until he would only rarely join a few calls or two. The last stream he did was three weeks ago, and he missed the scheduled Sleepy Bois Inc stream to undergo surgery.

Essentially, people missed him.

The stream started and the camera focused on the star boy. He looked the same, with his messy, curly hair and signature t-shirt, if only a bit sickly and pale. But the bright smile on his face masked any sign of sickness.

He was just as loud and boisterous as ever, immediately screaming his intro before explaining how much he had missed and how much he had missed streaming. And oh how the people missed  _ him _ . The chat flew by with people celebrating, emotes flying everywhere.

Tommy was  _ back _ . 

Not even a few minutes into the stream, Tubbo joined his call with pure and utter joy.

“TOMMY!”   
  
“AYYY TUBBO!”

Immediately the stream became a whirl of screaming and joyful voices. Friends were friends but these two were that and more. Tubbo was his closest and best friend, in and out of streaming. He would forever be grateful for his choice in raiding Tubbo years ago, marking the start of a close and strong bond.

If the Hanahaki disease could happen for platonic love, Tommy was certain that it would be for Tubbo. What did the Greeks call it again? Philia, the love between friends. But of course, that would never happen because he loved Tubbo and he was sure Tubbo loved him back.

“Oh Tommy it’s been too long. I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Well obviously you would miss me. Who wouldn’t miss Tommyinnit, the alpha male!” He joked and boasted, looking proud of himself and jokingly puffing out his chest. The two boys dissolved into laughter.

“No but seriously, so many people missed you big man! Especially Phil, Wilbur, and Techno! They were worried sick, especially when you didn’t show up to their stream.”

“...Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third ending: Memory- Sad ending #2!
> 
> Hiya y'all! Finally finished this chapter that I've been putting off! Tommy undergoes surgery and received the small chance of losing his memories. In the future, I will write a similar ending but where he keeps the memories, but looses his emotions. That's a completely different thing entirely and will be extremely fun to do. I have so many ideas and plans for the future and I hope y'all will enjoy it! I am SO excited for the next endings its an absolute KILLER. :)
> 
> Also I absolutely love all of your comments they make me so happy! OVER 100 comments! Thank y'all so much!


	7. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy would tell them everything tomorrow, he promised. 
> 
> _Tomorrow_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow - Sad Ending #3  
> To those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! What better way to spend a holiday than to read another chapter and ending! :)  
> Read the end notes for more of my endless ranting. Otherwise, enjoy!

Contrary to common belief, Tommy was not  _ dumb _ . Far from it. In fact, he was quite brilliant, perhaps more so than the common person.

Most people at first glance were fooled by his brash persona, that is, if they were not too annoyed by their first impression of him. Once people got over their perception of Tommy as a loud, annoying brat, they went to the next stage and called him a slightly less annoying brat who was still loud. 

Either way, Tommy was constantly associated with a few certain attributes. Loud. Annoying.  _ Dumb _ . The truth was, none of those were really true. People often forget that his online persona was just that,  _ a persona _ .

Sure, he was loud and almost always screaming. Almost all of his video thumbnails had duplicate images of him shouting. It was basically his entire brand. It just wasn’t a Tommy video or stream without him screaming at least once per minute. It just  _ didn’t _ happen.

That is, unless you knew Tommy once he stopped streaming. The Tommy who, after the camera was off, was silent and calm. The Tommy who was actually quite introverted and often too cautious to talk. The Tommy who stumbled and thought over his words for too long and often left things unsaid. 

The only thing about him that was truly loud, in and out of streaming, was his laugh. His unfiltered laugh of absolute hysteria that would echo for ages.

People had commented he sounded differently when he wasn’t streaming, and it was true. The force and sheer volume was gone, leaving a deeper and thicker voice that was calmer. Not that he didn’t curse at people or tease them, of course he still did. But there was an indescribable difference between him screaming “Fuck you, bitch!” in his airy shriek and when he would curse you out with a quieter, sarcastic tone that never wavered.

One made you laugh until you ran out of breath while the other  _ took _ your breath away.

And for being annoying… Tommy would consider that  _ debatable _ . Granted, he didn’t really need to force his cursing or fake any of his stunts. Playing the role of the aggressive, overconfident child was almost like second nature at this point. It was his role in the grand scheme of things, his part to play.

His act entertained the audience, and in the process, himself. It would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy the tight-lipped smile Wilbur would give him or the absolute sigh of resignation from Phil and Techno. 

Tommy would often indulge himself and annoy others just for the pleasure and joy it would bring him and his viewers, but in the end, he would always make sure to know where the line was. Where the limit started and stopped and where to poke. Never had he crossed a boundary too far beyond the point of return.

So yes, Tommy was loud and annoying. Being loud drew in attention and kept him in the front and center. Being annoying created conflict and content. Being loud and annoying was being  _ smart _ . And Tommy was  _ smart _ .

Smart enough to capitalize and take advantage of his loud image and be even louder to spread his reach. Smart enough to cause conflict at times where there were none in order to keep the plot going. Smart enough to joke and push the line but never break it.

_ Tommy was smart _ .

Sure, people perceived him as slightly dumb. His silly mistakes, such as his incapability to do basic math at times or his lack of common minecraft knowledge, all pointed to the general conception that Tommy was dumb. 

Few people ever noticed the attention to detail in every action. The strings that connected and manipulated every factor to his will. He was not the high IQ Dream or the Sun Tzu riddled Technoblade people revered for their strategy and intelligence.

He didn’t need to be.

Why put the effort of creating an image and reputation based on your intelligence and skills and be expected to maintain that and more? Everyone expected everything and more from them, but not Tommy. They loved Tommy for who he was. And if that was a loud, annoying, and slightly dumb child, then that’s who he was.

The level of planning and the intricacy in each act confounded people when they first noticed. Tommy got to where he was now not just from pure luck or hard work, but from endless thinking and preparation.

Even countless other people who truly knew Tommy could attest to that very fact. Compilations existed where people who managed to talk to him behind the scenes were shocked at the level of intelligence and he exhibited. 

Tommy himself would occasionally watch those compilations on repeat, listening to different people praise and compliment him when he had left the call or wasn’t present to hear it. But he was listening now, and he was listening closely.

He listened to Wilbur gently speak about his maturity in awe, how he carefully balanced everything to make his channel not only survive, but flourish. How he complimented and wished Tommy the best during Minecraft Championship. 

Or the calm talks between Phil and Technoblade where they admired how far Tommy has gone and knew for a  _ fact _ that he would go even farther. The pride in their voices as they talked about him was evident to any who listened.

And Tommy was listening.

The words made him beam until his cheeks began to ache. The joy in his heart rose as warmth buzzed underneath his skin and covered him. He was  _ so happy _ that it  _ hurt _ . He laughed and laughed until the bouts of laughter turned into desperate gasps for air. His smile was wiped as he coughed out petals upon petals.

Tommy wiped his mouth and winced at the blood smeared on his hand.

Tommy was smart, but he was still human. And humans made stupid,  _ foolish _ decisions.

The first and biggest one he made was letting his love, _ familial love _ , for three other people to grow and fester until it physically manifested into a weapon pointed at his own heart. 

His love and affection for Technoblade, Wilbur, and Phil was expected by everyone but him. After all, the family dynamic wasn’t real, wasn’t even fully acknowledged by all of them. Nothing really cemented this other than a few jokes like “Dadza” or “Brotherinnit”. Otherwise, the idea of a family was just that,  _ an idea _ .

Phil as the responsible, caring dad. Wilbur and Technoblade as the older brothers, perhaps even twins. Leaving Tommy as the youngest child, the annoying brat. None of those were really true, but god did Tommy wish it was.

But while no words declared it as a fact, Tommy couldn’t help but believe that  _ actions _ did. 

The way he would banter back and forth with Techno and Wilbur like second nature in a way he never did with anyone else. He had best friends, but none ever compared or held a candle to how he felt with them. Like brothers.

Phil was a completely different thing entirely. Technoblade and Wilbur were unfamiliar. Tommy never had a brother after all. But he did have a father, and he couldn’t help but see him in every little interaction with Phil. Too many times had Tommy found himself looking to Phil for guidance, help, and affirmation as he did with his own father. 

Don’t even get him started on the times he accidentally called him dad. ( _ Not all of them were an accident- _ ).

By the time Tommy realized how deep in he was, he was among the masses who yearned for a family.  _ His _ family. A family of people he  _ loved, _ even if they didn’t love him back. Falling in love with them was a  _ foolish decision _ , but never a mistake. It was inevitable, and something Tommy would never regret.

Many other stupid decisions soon followed. Like how he would constantly make contact with the  _ three _ people that would make his disease grow faster. Or how he would lie about his condition to calm and placate others who worried about him.

Like how Tommy refused to tell anyone about his disease. Who it was for and how many flowers there were, no one knew but him. Sure, he had his own personal reasons, but in the long run it would only be another bomb ready to explode in his face. Hiding did nothing but prolong the inevitable, that being recovery or death. And hiding crucial information from the doctors and adults that carried his life in their hands was definitely a foolish decision.

That was a decision he refused to follow any longer.

Tommy didn’t want to die. Not many people did. He was just a child, a child who has an entire future and world out there. A world that, he hated to admit, was far bigger than three people. 

( _ Tommy ignored the voices screaming that they WERE his world. They were EVERYTHING- _ ).

He was scared to die. For every day when he would spend in warmth and bliss around his family came a night full of pain and fear as he threw up so much petals and blood and expected death in the next second.

He didn’t want to die. So there was only one logical conclusion left. Recovery from requited love or surgery.

Tommy wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t foolish enough to expect a happy ending. The chances of them loving him back were slim to none. If those chances existed, he wouldn’t have had this disease in the first place.

So the last option was surgery, and if he had to be honest, that scared him almost as much as dying. Tommy was smart, yes, but he was a person of emotions, of feelings. His large, bleeding heart was what led him to give so much love that others couldn’t afford to return. A successful surgery guaranteed the loss of all emotions towards the person your flower was intended for. ( _ He didn’t dare think of the possibility of losing his memories- _ ).

But Tommy had three flowers for three people. He wouldn’t lose all emotion for one, but  _ three _ special people in his life. No love, no fondness or respect, not even hatred.

He would no longer feel the bubbles of pride whenever they told him he did something good, something right. He wouldn’t feel the embarrassment or exasperation when they laughed at a mistake he did or when he struggled. There would be none of the love that poured from every part of his body, enough to fill oceans. There would be  _ nothing _ .

But what other option did he have? He  _ refused  _ to die. He wasn’t foolish enough to keep his secret to his death. That left him with only one option.

Telling them  _ everything _ .

That wasn’t a magic solution that would fix all, far from it, but it was the most crucial and necessary step to take. Thinking about it logically, there was nothing else he could do.

There was no point of ignoring the problem until it became a tangled mess with no escape. If Tommy were to take the surgery and lose all of his emotions, everyone would instantly know. He was a decent actor, but he wasn’t perfect. The lack of feelings towards Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade would be clear to the audience. Even more so for the three themselves.

He wasn’t dumb enough to dump this problem into future Tommy or cruel enough to let this occur without telling the others a single word. They were the ones who would be impacted the most. 

So he would tell them, Tommy promised himself. He would tell the three of them he loved them and see what happened from there.

If it was a happy ending and they somehow loved him back, it would be a miracle fitting for a fairy tale. Even if unlikely, it was a possibility.  _ One that Tommy hoped for in silence and dreamt about every night. Happy dreams that were rare among the sea of nightmares and sleepless nights. _

If his confession backlashes and words of acid spewed everywhere, at least he would lose all emotions towards them in the end. If they avoided him, ignored him,  _ hated  _ him, it was okay.  _ It was okay _ . 

_ A part of him hoped he would forget them all together if they ever hated him. It wasn’t okay- _ .

The most likely result would be a mix in between. Tommy knew at the very least they cared about him in some shape or form. There were too many late night calls and time spent together that they  _ must have _ at least formed a bond of some kind, no matter how small. At least that’s what he hoped.

They would most likely be sad, who wouldn’t if a fam-  _ friend _ was dying and they were involved. Maybe it would be awkward, perhaps disgust or pity mixed in. He wasn’t sure how people would normally react when a fellow streamer loved you to the point of death.  _ He just hoped he was more than a fellow streamer _ .

Either way, he needed to let them know.

They needed to know so they could plan ahead. This would change their dynamic permanently and would affect their own channels immensely. There would be no more “SBI family”, not when Tommy had no more feelings for any of them. 

The viewers would no doubt be devastated, not to mention the damage it would do for the others. He grimaced at the hate and anger people would no doubt mistakenly aim towards the other three. If anything, all anger should be aimed at him. It was his fault, his own feelings, after all. He hated the fact he was being such a burden but what’s done was done and all he could do now was attempt to handle the backlash.

Tommy was going to tell them. He  _ had  _ to tell them. All the logic and reasoning screamed at him to speak. But his own heart, his own emotions gripped in fear and guilt, refused to let him budge.

He was going to tell them… just not yet.

He hated how his body refused to move, how his fingers wouldn’t press the button to start the call, or how his tongue would freeze. Each attempt to tell them led to his throat being clogged and his words stuck in his mouth. Even if there were no petals in the way, Tommy could never manage to get the words out.

Every day ended with him gripping his hair in frustration at another failed attempt to tell them. His body and heart wasn’t cooperating, fighting furiously against his brain. But even his own mind would betray him at times.

He had time, right? It was okay to wait for just a little bit, his mind would reason with him. Even if his disease was progressing at an unnaturally fast pace, he still had weeks. So if he indulged himself in their presence for a bit longer, it was fine right? After all, the moment he tells them, everything would be ruined and forever changed,  _ for the better or worse _ . His mind whispered in tandem with his heart and body.

So Tommy waited.

‘ _ Tomorrow _ ’, he would lie to himself. ‘ _ Next time _ ’.

But the next time never came. Time went by, and as it dwindled away, his panic began to rise. Tommy had stopped telling time by the day and seconds, instead depending on the petals that he coughed. Petals that bloomed into flowers meant two weeks had passed. The appearance of thorns signified another week. The morning Tommy coughed up blood, he knew he had to force himself to speak.

Gathering the measly bits of courage and determination he had left, he pressed the button to call Wilbur before moving away from his phone, far enough to prevent him from backing out and ending the call.

The ringing echoed in his room. God what was he doing? Each ring made him jump and his hands were itching to grab the phone and shut it off. On the final ring, Tommy reached to grab his phone when it stopped and a voice from the speakers blasted through.

“Hello? What is it Tommy it's like… 10:49 am. What the fuck?” Wilbur’s tired voice easily spread across the room, the phone already set on speaker mode. Tommy gulped and remained silent for a bit before feeling guilty for making him wait.

“Sorry Wilbur. Also, it’s already morning you should be awake by now.” Tommy scoffed, trying to hide the wobble and absolute  _ fear _ that shook his body.

It didn’t work. “Wasn’t planning on getting up until noon. Are you okay Tommy? What’s up?”

Tommy now held the phone and focused solely on the end button. It would be so easy to end the call right here, to just  _ stop _ and remain silent. Wilbur might be pissed but he could always explain later. 

Later, later,  _ later _ . It was  _ always _ later. He couldn’t put off any more. He  _ couldn _ ’t. Ignoring every nerve and voice screaming at him to stop, he lifted the phone closer and spoke in almost a whisper.

“I- I need to talk.”

“About what Tommy? Whatever you want to say I’m listening”. His tone was so gentle it made Tommy begin to tear up. What would his voice sound like after everything was done? For all he knew it this might be the last time he ever hears it.

“It’s about my Hanahaki… I want to talk about it.”

Almost instantly, Wilbur’s voice became more serious. Tommy refused and fought tooth and nail to keep everything tight-lipped and a secret. Talking about it now meant everything to Wilbur who had been fighting just as hard to try to help Tommy. 

“I’m here Tommy. What do you want to say?” Wilbur asked, and oh how much Tommy wanted to spill everything. But it wasn’t just Wilbur who was involved.

“Not just- not just you. I want to talk to Phil and Technoblade about it too.” Tommy’s voice grew quieter and quieter as if he was hoping Wilbur wouldn’t hear him. But Wilbur was hanging onto each and every word desperately.

“I can get them all into the same call if you want? Even if they’re busy I’m sure they would drop anything to listen to you. We care about you Tommy and we would always listen.”

And Tommy finally broke, tears rushing down his face as he began to sob. A few coughs wracked his frame as he tightly clutched his phone in a trembling hand. It was becoming too much at once.

Wilbur waited patiently on the other side, used to Tommy breaking down. It happened too often for any child, and it hurt Wilbur each time it happened. But Wilbur would be damned if he wasn’t by Tommy’s side when he needed it the most.

“If it helps you Tommy, just remember that we do love and care for you. We will always be here for you.” Wilbur said softly in between Tommy’s wheezing and coughs.

Wilbur didn’t know how much that  _ did help him _ . Not with the flowers, no. The words made him cough harder, the thorns digging in deeper and the blood spilling in larger pools. But it took away the weight in his heart and mind. For once, the chaos and mess that fought in his body settled onto one feeling and thought. A single, unchanging truth.

_ He loved them. So, so much _ .

“Thank you Wilby,” he whispered hoarsely. Wilbur didn’t even comment on the nickname, still fully focused on Tommy.

Tommy knew that no matter what happened, he would tell them and everything would be alright. No matter how things ended, at least he would know that they loved him, and he would take whatever he could get. Everything would be alright.

Everything would be alright.  _ So why was he still hesitating _ ?

There was nothing holding him back now, so why was he still staying silent? There was no voice in his mind screaming against him. His heart wasn’t protesting or crying against his actions. There was  _ nothing _ . Nothing held him back but he still hesitated.

“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice brought him back to the present. Right, he was on a call. Wilbur was  _ waiting  _ for him. He needed to say  _ something _ .

He needed to make a decision.

“...Tomorrow. Can we all be on a call together tomorrow?” 

Why did he say that? He could have said it now, waited for Wilbur to get the rest and finally get it over with. So why did he delay it?

“Of course, Tommy. Whatever you want. Is that all?”

_ No, no no. _ His mind and heart were screaming and alive again, but this time they were fighting for the same thing.  _ Tell them. Tell them now. Please. _

“That’s all. Thank you Wilbur. Bye.”

_ Tell them. TELL THEM! _

“Goodbye, Tommy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

The call ended. Tommy screamed. Streams of thorns and blood cut through his lungs and throat and spilled across his floor. He no longer cared about being subtle, about hiding. For what seemed to be hours, he cried and cursed at whatever being decided to make this disease a thing.

He was angry. Angry at the world, angry at the flower killing him from the inside, angry at  _ him _ . But never at them. Never at Phil, Technoblade, and Wilbur. 

When the last of the petals had left his lips, Tommy finally began to breathe. The blood stopped spilling as if he ran out, probably causing him to be faint and dizzy. It hurt to breathe but he had to. 

_ Breathe _ .

_ It’s okay _ . It’s okay. Tommy began to breathe and finally took everything in. He failed at talking to them today, but only for today. That didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to them tomorrow. He  _ would _ talk to them tomorrow.  _ He promised _ .

It’s just one day. One more day. He couldn’t get out of this, couldn’t delay it any further. Wilbur of all people would never let Tommy back out now. No matter what happened, Tommy would talk to them tomorrow. It was a decision he made, and a decision he would stick with for the rest of his life.

_ Tomorrow _ .

Finally with a calm heart and mind, Tommy looked around his room and winced. His floor was stained in blood, and endless petals decorated every surface. Luckily, he had plenty of experience of cleaning up, too used to scrubbing away the copper taint from his floors and gathering the flowers. 

But Tommy was too tired to even bother this time. Everyone would find out anyways tomorrow. Everything will come to a close. He didn’t need to hide anymore. 

So Tommy stood up and left his room, making sure to close the door knowing his parents wouldn’t invade his privacy without him knowing. That was a mess he would save for tomorrow. No need for them to panic now.

Gently clutching his throat, he could feel the cuts and rawness of his throat from all of the screaming and coughing. It hadn’t been this bad for weeks. Speaking about screaming, Tommy was certain his parents would have at least heard him and come running to at least check up on him. They already knew he wouldn’t tell or show them anything he wasn’t willing to give, but they would still try.

“Tommy! We’re home!” His mother’s voice came to the front of the house where he heard shuffling and a door slamming open. Taking a quick look at the clock, he realized his parents had just come home from shopping at the supermarket. Perfect timing.

“Hey mum! Can we get some ice cream? More throats feeling… bad again.” Tommy called out before walking towards his parents. They shared a knowing look and hugged him tight. 

“Of course. Get in the car, we’ll be there in a bit.” Getting ice cream to soothe the pain in his throat had been a common routine ever since the first time Tommy coughed out a full bloom and cried for an entire day. It was all his parents could really do for him, and he appreciated it with all of his heart.

Settling into the back of his car, Tommy rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes. A nice treat would be nice. Just one more day. He would tell them everything tomorrow, he promised.

_ Tomorrow _ .

The next day, Wilbur, Phil, and Technoblade received news that changed their lives. 

"Yesterday, at 2:56 pm, a family of three were killed after their car collided into another vehicle in a fatal crash. One of the victims was discovered to be the popular streamer and YouTuber, Tommyinnit, who was only sixteen when he died. Sources say-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Y'all would not believe how much I speedran writing this. 4k words in one day! That's the longest chapter yet and all for today! Hope you enjoyed the pain. Idea courtesy to my fellow partner, Waxflowerwoes! Yes I will be making a second part/ reactions to this, along with the previous chapters Time and Memory! A lot of you enjoyed them a lot and wanted more so I will deliver soon! Perhaps after a bit of fluff or happy things but look forward to more chapters and read our other fics if you can!
> 
> I cannot express how much I love and appreciate all of you. Thank you for all of your support, especially your comments! They bring me so much joy and motivation every day. It's what allowed me to write this chapter in time! This was my first individual fic and it already reached over 1k kudos! Y'all are amazing and I wish you all a happy holiday!  
> (Also, bonus for anyone who can predict the title for the part two of this ending!)


	8. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three let it sink in, the pain and sorrow that bound them all. Together, they loved and they cried. They all loved Tommy, and they all loved each other. They lost Tommy before they could love him. The three refused to lose each other the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Garden - Sad Ending #4 pt.1

Tommy had died.

Before people could blink, the boy had passed away on an unassuming, regular day.

The day before, Tommy was alive. He was shouting at Technoblade finding joy in pushing his nerves. He was complaining to Philza, voice soft when asking for advice. He had laughed at the top of his lungs at Wilbur’s every little action. Even if his breaths were too raspy, too hoarse, it was fine. Tommy was only at the second stage of Hanahaki. He had months left to live, to confess, and ultimately, to survive. 

Tommy was alive.

The next day, Tommy was found dead in his room, silent and eyes blank. There were no traces of the flowers that killed him other than the unidentifiable, withered leaves and petals. It was painfully clear that he was on his last stage,  _ had been for a while _ , and used up the last few seconds of his life laughing in front of the camera. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

That day, Tommy had died.

It had been too fast and too sudden. Then again, even if he had died months later, slowly and loudly, it still would have been too fast for anyone. The death of a child was always quicker than it ever should have been. 

But this death was fast, almost instant. Tommy didn’t even go out with a bang, all violent and valiant. He didn’t die in peace, surrounded by his loved ones.

He died all alone in the dark. He died in pain as the thorns clawed his throat and the blood filled his lungs. He died when his flowers grew around his heart and withered along with Tommy.

Tommy died with no witnesses, only grieving parents who found their dead child too late.

He had left the world without a warning, and people were left grasping in his wake, desperate to pick up the pieces. 

Philza woke up in the morning with Tommy in his mind and in his sight. The image of his smile and his too-bright blue eyes flickered in his dreams and stayed with him throughout the morning. They stayed with him when he saw the lone text on his phone, a message from Tommy’s parents. It was long and blurred in his mind, only one sentence clear.

‘ _ He’s gone.” _

And the sight of Tommy’s clear eyes faded, now lifeless, as tears blurred Phil’s vision.

Techno was awake in the early hours of dawn, tired but deaf to the call for sleep. Instead, the sounds of Tommy’s high-pitched laughter and voice echoed in his ears as he rewatched recent videos and livestreams. He would never admit that the raucous racket of Tommy was much more calming and soothing than any song or lullaby.

But before the last dregs of sleep claimed him, his ears pricked up to the ringing of his phone. He ignored the other texts and notifications he received because it was  _ Phil _ calling him and he was top priority.

And it was Phil’s sobbing and the painful whispers of Tommy’s death that rang in his ears and around his head. 

Techno wouldn’t sleep that day.

Wilbur woke up late in the afternoon, too tired and screwed over by his messed up sleep schedule. He decided to lay in bed for a bit, feeling nothing but the warm embrace of his blankets and the hoodie he wore. It was an atrocious bright red and he would never in his right mind buy this hoodie, and he didn’t. The hoodie was Tommy’s, something he left behind during one of his occasional visits. 

Last night, Wilbur felt so cold and the hoodie was right there, hanging on a chair. And despite the color and the slightly tight fit, the hoodie was soft and it was  _ warm _ . It was everything Tommy was, and he couldn’t help but think the hoodie was specifically made for the boy.

It was the hoodie that Wilbur had clutched tightly in his fists when he finally decided to pick up his phone. Missed calls and endless messages covered his screen. He didn’t even have time to check them when the last thing he was on,  _ Twitter _ , had loaded.

He didn’t see the text from Tommy’s parents, nor did he hear the news from a weeping Phil or Techno. Instead, Wilbur found out through the endless screams and pain from strangers around the world as they mourned the sudden death of the boy they all knew and loved.

And Wilbur felt his heart break.

Tommy had died, and the world he had left behind died along with him.

Remember this.

_ ‘The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with a flower, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals (sometimes even whole flowers in more severe stages).’ _

Phil, Technoblade, and Wilbur did not love Tommy. They cared and held him close to their hearts, but never did he make it inside. Not like the boy who had a heart too big and too open to fit in more than one family, more than one love. He loved them, but they did not love him. Not yet.

Not until Tommy died. Not until they realized all too late of the love that was always there but just out of their sight, out of sound, out of reach. Whether it was hesitance, denial, or simple ignorance, their love had always been there but at the same time  _ not _ . Not until their hearts wept and were left with a gaping hole that they desperately tried to fill with a boy who was dead. The three loved Tommy. And Tommy…

Tommy was dead.

A dead person could not love.

And the moment they all realized this very truth, it had been too late. For deep in their bodies the seed had already been planted, and identical flowers began to bloom. 

Hanahaki disease claimed another life and added to the limitless collection of souls from the past. Now it would claim three more.

As in the case with Tommy’s death, it was Phil who found out first. The three all loved Tommy somewhere in their mind, but the love never reached their hearts, not quite. It was blocked by a barrier they all made in some form or another, conscious or not.

Phil knew he loved Tommy, but he was… hesitant. 

_ And gods, did Phil curse and regret his hesitation for so long. How he screamed himself hoarse for being a coward. How he suffered in agony under his broken emotions until the moment they disappeared- _

Phil was hesitant to love Tommy. To him, Tommy was like his child, a child he obviously never had but hoped to someday in the future. The boy was his son,  _ one _ of his many children who he treasured and cared for. Some days, he would whisper and joke around with Kristen that any future child of theirs would have very loving and protective brothers. And if Kristen realized that the joke was less of a joke and more of a wish, she didn’t call him out.

Phil wished she did. 

He thought of Tommy as his son… but he wasn’t sure if it was the same for the boy.

Afterall, Tommy had a father. A real, living father who very much gave Tommy all of the love and affection he deserved. One had to be blind to not see how much the boy loved his father, how he would jump at every opportunity to run to him and shout his newest accomplishments and receive praise in return. Phil praised him just as much, but he knew it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t his dad.

While Phil could easily shove Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy in the category as his children, he couldn’t be their real father figure. Not when they already had their own, while Phil had no children.

So he was hesitant to call any of them his sons. How could he not be? 

He shouldn’t have to force this familial-like relationship between him and the others. Wilbur and Techno might have understood and accepted or rejected it with the grace of an adult. But Tommy was a child. Even if his mind was more mature and brighter than most teens, he was still so young. And Phil knew that Tommy’s rejection would hurt the most because children were so brutally honest, him especially so. And he didn’t know what he would do if Tommy hated him with that direct truthfulness.

So he wouldn’t tell Tommy, wouldn’t love him at all. Phil refused to love him. Not yet. Not now.

Phil was the adult in this situation, the responsible one who knew everything. Even if he had to bite back his tongue and hold back the words of affirmation and affection, then it was his own duty. If not as a parent, then as a friend. He didn’t want to burden Tommy. Phil didn’t want his son to hate him.

So it wasn’t Tommy, his son, but Tommy, his friend. It was his friend who died on that hauntingly, regular day. 

_ But he wasn’t just a friend, was he? _

Phil found out in the worst way that he did love Tommy. Because he didn’t lose a friend. He lost a son. 

It was then when Phil first found a petal. It was so small and fragile in Phil’s calloused hands. The light purple seemed so muted and quiet, the farthest thing from Tommy’s loud and exuberant personality. Even so, Phil knew instantly who it was for.

_ Lilac. Symbolizes youthful innocence _ .

Phil wept again, his tears now joined with lilac petals as they fell to the ground. In his body grew a flower dedicated to a boy, his son, who would never learn of his father’s love, nor could he return it.

And from his pain and blood, the flowers grew. But there would be no one whose love could save him now.

Phil’s hesitance was like storing his love in a box. Something that stayed in the corner of his mind but never dared to open again.

Techno? He saw one peek of his love and slammed it away in a prison far away from his sight and mind. There was no hesitance, only denial.

Technoblade did  _ not _ love Tommy, he  _ refused _ . 

Out of the three, Technoblade was the first to see the signs. His sharp and  _ always  _ overthinking brain never missed the little hints of affection that began to creep up at him. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but for him, it was like blaring neon signs on a dark night.

How could he not see the way Tommy’s voice changed from a grating static to a song that stuck in his mind? How Techno began to actually seek his company instead of avoiding all forms of contact? It was so easy to talk to the boy, more than most people he knew.

Technoblade didn’t make many friends. Being an introvert with a sharp tongue and a reputation for killing orphans in a video game was not very appealing to most, but that just made Techno value people more and his friends the most.

He made a goal this year to make more friends, and he treated it seriously. He kept a list of names by his side that started out empty but grew ever so slowly. The list was small, but that only served to make the names stand out even more. One of the names was Tommy’s written in sharpie, crossed out and rewritten not once but twice. ( _ Techno was hesitant at first to put Tommy’s down at all. He never knew that- _ ).

Tommy was Technoblade’s friend. That he could accept. Once the boy had reached that checkpoint there was no going back, he refused to let him. 

He realized  _ way too late _ that Tommy and two others had long passed that checkpoint and reached another one that he never knew internet friends could achieve.

Family.

When Technoblade found out, all attempts to stop it were pathetic. There was no pushing anyone back out of his friend’s list, no matter how strong the force was. But for people considered family? Nothing could change, not even himself if he tried. And oh, how he  _ tried. _

He of all people knew the power and dangers of love. Endless tales of love swirled around his mind. Endings of sorrow, failure, and death far surpassed those with happiness and joy. Love itself was such an unpredictable feeling that he would rather avoid it all.

So he did.

Technoblade was a reasonable man, who knew himself and his own mind. There was no getting rid of this thing called  _ feelings _ , so he did the next big thing. Reject them and refuse to acknowledge their existence.

It was scary. He was a man expected to feel nothing, but he felt  _ everything _ . He felt the loneliness when his list was empty. He felt the pain every time he crossed out a name on the list for every friend he lost. He felt emotions too much, even if he showed none of it.

And it scared him to even think of what he would feel if he had to cross out Tommy’s name of all names.

Still, Techno wrote out Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy’s name in a new, separate list he kept hidden from everyone, even himself. A piece of paper stuffed away in a hidden drawer, never to see daylight.

He refused to love them like family. 

Friends were acceptable, welcomed even. He could handle that after the many years he spent trying to crack open the vault that was his heart. But despite his efforts, the pulsing lump of muscle in his chest balked at the idea of accepting outsiders as more than friends. The idea of loving people with the strength and fervor that he loved his own family was frightening. 

But that one phone call easily crumbled his walls into fine dust, and the regret and pain came smashing in. It had  _ hurt _ . For hours he had stayed on the call with Phil-  _ oh god he loved Phil like family too was he going to lose him as well- _

His phone had evenrually died, ending the call. It was for the best since neither Techno nor Phil had the heart to end it themselves.

Without Phil’s voice to keep him company, his mind filled his ears with other sounds. Tommy’s loud shouts, his screams of joy, his laughter-

The last thing he heard from Tommy was his laughter, wasn’t it? The noise of the boy’s high-pitched laughter was cut short when the call ended. Cut short like his own life.

Suddenly, Techno found his feet moving, functioning when nothing else did. The only other thing working was his ears that heard endless echoes of laughter. But no one was actually laughing nearby, so his ears technically weren’t working. They were _broken_.

But still, his feet took one step after another before he realized he was at his computer. He realized pathetically that he wanted to hear more. He wanted to hear Tommy’s laughter just one more time.

Soon his fingers desperately clicked away as discord pulled up at his screen. He didn't know what else to expect other than Tommy’s offline status. Of course it was. Tommy was  _ dead _ . A few more clicks and Techno found himself on Youtube. Without missing a beat, he clicked on the first video he saw. It was one of Tommy’s videos.

Only then did he hear the laughter that repeated in his mind. The hysterical joy from the video was so harshly different from the numb pain that Techno felt. Hearing the laughter from the video only made him realize that he would never hear that laughter again. Never in person or in calls. Just sounds memorialized in videos of the past.

Shaky hands opened the hidden drawer and took out a list. Grabbing a pen, he hovered over the name before he froze. His hand refused to go down, to move in any way other than shaking. In anger he threw the pen across the room and broke down.

He wasn’t able to cross out Tommy’s name. Not again. Not when he couldn’t write it down again later.

Sitting in his chair, Technoblade wept and screamed his heart out because he didn’t want this pain, these  _ feelings _ . Sobs were joined by coughs as his weak lungs were pushed to the limit. His words felt stuck in his throat, and he screamed even harder to let them out. But it wasn’t words that came out, but a lone petal.

Next to Tommy’s name was a lilac petal, and Techno continued to cry.

The name written in ink began to bleed as it became drenched in tears. Slowly, the blackness of the ink spread to the lilac, tainting the purple into a murky dark color.

This was why he didn’t want to love. He didn’t want to love his family. He didn’t want to love  _ Tommy _ .

But he did. 

The blackened petal was proof.

So Phil hesitated while Techno full-on rejected his love. But at least they recognized their love for what it was. Wilbur?

He didn’t even know it was there.

Oh how much of a  _ fool _ he was, something that Wilbur would never let himself forget. Well, until he actually did-

For the person who felt the most than any of the three, he was blind to the love he fostered for his family. The only one who could compete with the expanse of emotions he felt was Tommy. But Tommy was  _ dead _ and Wilbur was left to feel it all.

Wilbur wasn’t dumb, but he was a fool. He was used to his too-large heart because he lived with it all of his life. It was almost too easy to become close to others and easily get attached. So when he got especially attached to a specific three, it was almost hard to distinguish them from the rest. 

That was because Wilbur loved and he loved freely. Without a doubt, he would say he loved Tommy. He loved Phil and Technoblade too. But he never looked hard enough to realize that it was not a love between friends, but  _ family _ .

When Phil would act exasperated (it often wasn’t an act) or join along with Wilbur’s chaos, Wilbur knew he loved Phil.

When Technoblade’s banter and humor easily intertwined with Wilbur’s, he knew that he loved Techno.

And when Tommy, young Tommy would scream profanities at Wilbur, he smiled. When Tommy called him his brother, he cried. But no matter what happened, he loved.

He loved the three so openly and strongly. But he loved blindly. 

Wilbur was so ignorant.

He ignored Phil's missed calls or the messages from Tommy’s parents. He ignored the way his heart screamed louder than it ever had before when he grieved. He clutched the red hoodie he wore that seemed tighter than it ever had before. It was tight because it was Tommy’s. Tommy was tall but so was Wilbur. But the hoodie felt so much smaller because Tommy was just a  _ child _ . Someone so bright and so small  _ died _ .

Even when the petal tumbled from his lips, he was blind to the reason  _ why _ .

For him, it seemed like another cruel joke from the world. Give the mourning man the disease that took his own  _ friend _ . He wondered if the audience who watched him on this pitiful stage were laughing. He certainly wasn’t.

He questioned the purpose behind the petal. The little lilac felt so smooth and fragile in his fingers. He didn’t love anyone romantically at the time. He currently couldn’t feel anything at all.

Nothing but the ripping pain that clawed at his insides and burned his heart. He couldn’t tell if it was from the Hanahaki disease or Tommy’s death. Most likely both. Then Wilbur remembered that Tommy must have felt this same pain, most likely more since it  _ killed _ him, and Wilbur melted into a puddle of tears again.

Wilbur never realized the true meaning behind the petal, never realized his love, until he got a call from Phil. He instantly answered the call. He was too traumatized, too scared to ever miss a call from Phil again.

He noticed right away that it was a group call when Techno joined the call only seconds after. Wilbur hadn’t heard from the other two for a few days, each taking their own time to grieve in their own ways. Even today, Wilbur had Tommy’s hoodie draped over his chair and drenched in tears. There was never a day the hoodie went dry since Tommy’s death.

The three of them were all together again. They were the Sleepy Bois Inc… except they weren’t. They were missing someone, and Wilbur wondered if they would ever be the Sleepy Bois ever again. He didn’t want to. Not without Tommy.

But still, the three of them were together again, and for an important reason.

“I- there’s something important I need to tell you two”, Phil said. His voice was grave and somber, but of course it was. Tommy was-

“I do as well,” Techno had bit out almost hesitantly. 

Only Wilbur had nothing to say, nothing to reveal or show. How could he when he didn’t know anything himself? Maybe he would reveal his own Hanahaki, but the other two didn’t deserve another burden and another reminder of Tommy. Wilbur would figure this out easily. After all, if he doesn’t even know who it was for, that meant they weren’t important, right?

Phil didn’t hold anything back. He refused to hesitate ever again. “I have it. Hanahaki.”

Wilbur’s throat clogged up. His mouth froze while he began to shake. No, not  _ Phil _ . Wilbur couldn’t lose anyone else, especially not to the damned disease. 

Wilbur himself seemed to not realize the petals that settled in his body. The lilacs that were responsible for clogging his throat and ready to burst the moment he opened his mouth. Too focused on Phil, Wilbur forgot that he himself was also afflicted.

Technoblade, however, still seemed to be able to use his mouth. After a shaky gasp and a moment of silence, Techno admitted the truth himself. He was sharp and his mind caught onto the situation too quickly in a way Wilbur’s failed to do. This was no coincidence and he knew it.

“It’s a lilac… isn’t it.” Techno’s words rang even louder in the call, and Wilbur felt like breaking down. Phil read in between the lines and understood Techno’s implications. He had the disease as well. The two knew instantly, of course they did. They both loved Tommy as family and they knew it. 

Wilbur did not.

Wilbur cried, tears unseen in the call but his sobs clearly heard. Why? Why did the people he loved and cared for have to be cruelly ripped away by these bloody flowers. The lack of air in his lung led to him hacking out petal after petal, his body not caring if he couldn’t breathe. The light purple flower only served as a reminder that he was dying.  _ They _ were dying. Just like  _ Tommy _ -

“Wilbur,” Phil had called out with concern yet grim acceptance. “You have it too, don’t you?”

Through the pain and his coughs, Wilbur cried out, “How? How do you know it’s a lilac? Why do we have this?  _ Why do we have to die _ ?”

It was then Phil and Techno realized he knew nothing. But they refused to let Wilbur keep his eyes closed to the world. Not anymore. They  _ couldn’t _ .

“It’s because Tommy died,” Techno said bluntly. The words were drenched and quaking in his pain, but he continued on. “It’s because we all love Tommy, but he can’t love us back because he’s  _ dead _ ”.

And finally, the blindfold came off and Wilbur saw the world for what it truly was, and he  _ hated it _ . His friend didn’t die.  _ His family did _ . His little brother Tommy, was ripped away from the world, from  _ him _ . He died before Wilbur could even love him, and now he would die loving Tommy.

How poetic. How cruel.

The three let it sink in, the pain and sorrow that bound them all. Together, they loved and they cried. They all loved Tommy, and they all loved each other.  They lost Tommy before they could love him. The three refused to lose each other the same way.

Tommy was given the chance to heal through requited love. But in this cruel reality, he had never confessed, he hadn’t been given the time, even if he had had the smallest of chances.  Phil, Techno, and Wilbur didn’t have that option. Tommy couldn’t love them back because he was buried. That only left one other choice.

Surgery. Removal. Casting the plants, and their feelings, aside. 

They hated it, hated it with all of their beings. But even they knew they had no other option. They refused to let their family die. It was either to live together as a three or join Tommy in death as four.  Wilbur would be lying if he said he didn’t consider the latter. But the idea of Phil, Techno, or even worse, both, leaving the world the same way Tommy did, would kill Wilbur faster than the disease would. The same went for the other two. 

That was how the three found themselves altogether in the same hospital, refusing to take it in different places around the world, too far from each other. So together, the three went in to take surgery.

Surgery meant the removal of the fatal plant growing inside, but it also meant the removal of every single emotion possible towards the intended person. In the worst-case scenario, surgery could even lead to the removal of memories.

Surgery guaranteed recovery and his life, but not a happy one.

Wilbur prayed that he would keep his memories. He had a small chance of losing it, but even that chance was enough to scare him. He didn’t mind losing all of his emotions- well he did. But his bleeding heart would only benefit from it. 

It scared Wilbur, the very idea of thinking of Tommy and feeling absolutely  _ nothing _ . To hear his laughter or banter, to see those bright eyes and not want to smile, to laugh, to  _ love _ .  But the idea of him not even remembering a single thing of the boy who meant so much to his life? It  _ frightened  _ him.

Wilbur wanted to remember.

Technoblade wanted to forget.

To the small chance that he would forget, he poured in all of his luck and hopes. He wanted to forget it all. He was done with the haunting laughter that continued to ring in his ears. He wanted to forget the laughter, forget it  _ all _ . 

Techno didn’t need to lose his emotions. He could easily imitate that any day, even when his heart was repeatedly stabbed again and again. No, he wanted to forget the boy who earned his place on a list that should never have existed.

He had Phil and Wilbur on that list, but they were alive. Maybe when Techno forgot about Tommy, he could finally cross out the name. 

And Phil… he didn’t know. He promised to himself he would never hesitate again, yet here he was, split between choices. But then again, he didn’t really have a choice, did he? None of them did. The three never had a choice. Not when Tommy died or when lilacs fell from their mouths. Not when they had to have surgery to live. And they certainly don’t have a choice in whether they get to remember or not. It was all chance and luck.

And none of them were lucky.

Phil couldn’t decide between no emotions or no memories. He wanted  _ neither _ . A life with memories of a boy yet no understanding of why he meant so much or a life where you know nothing and an empty hole is left in your mind instead of your heart. They were both terrible lives. Lives that the three would be subjected to.

Lives that would begin the moment they entered the hospital.

Three people entered the hospital with the Hanahaki disease, and three left without.

Phil and Technoblade remembered.

Wilbur did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH! I'M ALIVE!!! I am SO sorry for the long absence. Too many factors such as the holidays and school kept me too busy. More importantly, I TRIED to write a happy ending, okay? But all my efforts only led to a long writer's block and I REFUSE to have gone a month without updating. However, a day less than a month is totally acceptable, so have this last-minute ending that WILL have a part two! I promise to continue more steady updates, as well as finishing the happy ending for all this. Again, sorry!  
> This does mean that Wax and I won't be able to update Honeycomb every week and have to default back to every other week. We are so busy I apologize. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and look forward to future endings! I'll post a mini-chapter tomorrow as well before I update more endings. Like always, comment or suggest possible endings down below, and thank you for reading!


	9. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “... Hanahaki, huh? That sucks.”
> 
> Despite the black in the corner of his eyes, Tommy looked up and gave the man the biggest glare he could. 
> 
> No shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run - Mini chapter #1
> 
> This is just a short mini, not exactly an ending but a story nonetheless! Enjoy this fun little bit while I write the next few chapters!

Tommy was running. 

In hindsight, running was one of the worst possible things you could do when you had lungs filled with flowers and blood. As if it wasn’t already hard enough to breathe with scratched up lungs and petals clogging your mouth. 

Still, Tommy was running and he  _ kept  _ running. Running away from his home. Away from his parents who he just screamed at despite the thorns ripping his throat.

His parents had cornered him, pushing him to get the surgery, to live. This wasn’t the first time it happened and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, so he ran. He would think that hearing the same pleas over and over would lose the bitter taste it gave him but it didn’t. Each attempt by his parents just made him lash out with the same viciousness as the last.

Of course it would.

Surgery would guarantee his life, the many years he had yet to live and experience. He was so young, his life pathetically shorter than it should ever have been. It was almost funny how much his parents repeated that fact. 

“ _ You’re too young to die. You’re just a child! _ ”. 

But surgery also guaranteed the loss of the love Tommy held so dearly for his other family. For Phil, Wilbur, and Techno. And even if it was immature or foolish, Tommy would rather die. It was a childish decision, but then again, he  _ was  _ a child. 

So when they screamed at him, he screamed back. His parent’s demands and bargains were met with frustrated refusals. Even threats against him couldn’t work because he was already going to  _ die _ . What would a few days grounded or without his phone be compared to the inevitable end of his life?

_ Deep inside he was scared that they would take away all possible contact between him and the other three. They didn’t know, couldn’t POSSIBLY know he loved Phil, Techno, and Wilbur. But just imagining a slow death without being able to hear or see them was almost just as bad as surgery- _

When the flowers strangled his voice and no more sounds came out, Tommy did the only thing he could think of. He ran out the front door. He had no more words to say, couldn’t say them if he tried. But he didn’t want to stay there, not with his parents who he loved but they didn’t understand that it  _ wasn’t just them _ he loved. There were three others out there in the world he would die for and die he will.

Before his parents could even try to stop him, he was out of the house and down the streets. Tommy may have been a few steps from death but he was tall and he was fast. There was not enough breath in his lungs to scream, nevertheless run. But like always, Tommy managed to defy all odds and ran.

Pushing through the fatigue, Tommy ran and ran until he couldn’t anymore. Past streets and buildings. Past the park and areas he recognized until they began to blur. What felt like days but could have just been mere minutes have passed when he realized that he actually didn’t recognize the area, hadn’t for a while.

But he didn’t care. His body had finally given up and he collapsed onto the pavement. Will, spite, and anger dissipated and left an emptiness in his body. He didn’t know where he was, and at this point, he could care less. 

Tommy was tired. _So tired._

Any attempts to move even a limb would lead to nothing, but he didn’t even try. It was almost a pitiful acceptance as he laid there on the ground yet feeling as if he was floating. He couldn’t run, couldn’t get up, couldn’t even go back home. 

He closed his eyes and laid there on the ground. He just needed to rest… just for a bit…

“Uhh, you okay there?”

Tommy opened his eyes and saw a tall man hovering over him, concern written all over his face. It made sense since Tommy was a child who looked like he was on the verge of death. In a way, he technically was. It definitely felt like it was death that whispered in his ears, telling him to rest. To sleep.

But if Tommy didn’t listen to his parents, then he definitely wouldn’t listen to this bitch called death. 

With his pale skin, heavy eye bags, and most importantly, the blood dripping down his chin, Tommy looked like he was a corpse dumped on the side of the road. He tried to respond but his voice still failed him. There was no air, just blood and thorns. Instead, he just nodded.

The man still stood there, worried.  _ Any decent person would be _ , Tommy mused casually as if he wasn’t a second away from passing out. Said stranger pulled tissues out from the pocket of his hoodie and held it out. It was wrinkled and hopefully unused-  _ gods it better be unused _ . Either way, Tommy stared at the innocent-looking tissues dangled in front of him with a deadpan.

Willing his hand, or any part of his body honestly to move, Tommy stayed on the ground while the man patiently waited above him. Eventually, his arm managed to lift slowly, if not shakingly, into the air and lightly grasped the tissue with a sweaty and trembling hand. The movement was almost a sign to the rest of the body to wake up and actually function.

Tommy took the tissue and wiped away the blood that dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. He gave up on saving the shirt itself, permanently stained. Well, maybe not permanently. His personal experience with coughing up blood every other minute made him quite an expert at cleaning it up. Especially since he was determined to the core to hide everything from his parents, even if it meant soaking his clothes under cold water for ages and letting his fingers freeze. 

He hoped he could save this shirt as well. It would be a shame if he couldn’t since the shirt was a lovely yellow, just like Wilbur’s sweater that he always wore-

And Tommy began to cough, bundles of hyacinths spilling out as blood scattered in the petals and leaves. Bits of other flowers, Queen Anne’s Lace and carnations, soon followed. But the blue of the hyacinths stood out in numbers, overwhelming the white and red of the other flowers and blood. Of course it did, he was thinking of  _ Wilbur _ -

_ It hurts so much. _

Tommy could barely hear the shocked gasp from the man in front of him, but as he vomited flowers, he could care less about the man. All he was focused on was getting all the flowers out so he could finally  _ breathe _ . 

When the episode finally subsided, he tried to take in all of the air, gasping in as much as he could without scratching against the thorns too much. His mind was fuzzy and getting darker, whether it was from the blood loss or lack of oxygen. But he didn’t want to pass out, not now when he was in the middle of nowhere with a stranger-

“... Hanahaki, huh? That sucks.”

Despite the black in the corner of his eyes, Tommy looked up and gave the man the biggest glare he could. 

_ No shit.  _

Tommy just looked at the blood and thorns that covered the pavement and again at the man with the most done and dead look. The man just laughed, if a bit sadly. 

“Not what I meant. It’s terrible, I know. Trust me”. One hand took out a water bottle from a backpack before handing it to Tommy while his other hand played with his jacket zipper. As Tommy sipped the water slowly, soothing his burning throat, he prayed that the man wouldn’t suddenly strip on the spot.

He did not, in fact, strip. Instead, the man pulled out something from underneath his bright colored jacket to reveal a necklace that held at the end two petals from two different flowers encased in solid resin. 

He had seen those necklaces circulating around the internet, even more so when people found out about he had it as well. They were necklaces that would contain and memorialize a petal from the Hanahaki disease and a memento for surviving. That is,  _ if  _ you survived.

Tommy didn’t get one, for many reasons. The first being that he was trying very hard to hide any trace of his petals and displaying it front and center in a necklace was quite counter-productive. Besides, why get a necklace of the flowers that would certainly kill him? He certainly wouldn’t be alive long enough to appreciate it.

“Hanahaki’s a bitch,” The man said with knowing certainty.

Tommy would agree.

The man knelt down and tried to help Tommy up. He extended his hand out to the boy and waited once again for the boy to move. With an admittedly weak grasp, Tommy grabbed his hand and let the other man do all the work and pull him up.

He realized that his hands were slightly smaller than the stranger’s, leaving a salty taste in his mouth. Tommy became even more bitter when he finally stood back on his own two feet and realized the man was just as tall, if not a bit taller than him.

_ Prick. _

Then the stranger bent down, almost folding in half to pick up some petals discarded on the ground. He chose the ones that were mostly untouched of blood, and frowned. 

These flowers weren’t ones of romance. They signified love _. Familial love. _

Tommy was about to make a dry remark, maybe comment on how strange he was or how rude he was acting by picking up his flowers. But the other man spoke first.

“From my personal experience, I can promise you with all of my heart that whoever you love, these people that you consider a family? They love you just as much in the same way, if not more. Go. Go and tell them.  _ Please _ .”

The man’s voice was desperate, but they had no pity. Instead, it almost felt nostalgic, concerned, and a bit… warm. The words were so familiar, almost a mirror image to what everyone else had said. And if Tommy was able to think a bit more, then he would have realized why that voice sounded a little bit  _ too _ familiar.

Tommy shook his head. What use were the words of a stranger when even his closest friends and actual family couldn't convince him? When the pleas of the very three people that started it all could not even get him to break? No, Tommy refused to listen.

But his eyes kept going back to the necklace and the two petals inside, innocently resting in the folds of the man’s hoodie. This man was the first person he met who had gotten Hanahaki and  _ survived _ . And not just one flower, but multiple, just like him. Tommy had no idea what type of flowers the petals were from. He only knew enough about the flowers he coughed up, and they certainly did not look like Queen Anne’s lace, carnations  _ or _ hyacinths. Instead, the petals encased in resin were a vivid blue and orange. The colorful petals called out to him, and for some reason, Tommy found himself nodding.

The man smiled and gently pushed Tommy in the direction he came from. Not that Tommy knew where he was, but he trusted the man more than his current knowledge. All the trees and buildings looked the same and he recognized none of the street names.

“You can do it Tommy.” and the man left. Quicker than a man that height ever should, the stranger and his hideous looking hoodie disappeared from his sight. Tommy looked around and assumed that was quite a ways far from home, the distance larger than he thought. It’s a miracle that a boy like him ran so far while on the verge of dying. Long legs really did help.

He began his trek home, this time taking his time to spare his dying lungs. Tommy still had the water bottle and desperately took gulps with every break. In his pockets remained the now bloodied tissues. Only when Tommy saw a street he finally recognized did he realize-

_ He never told the man his name _ .

The man had said Tommy’s name,  _ knew who he was, _ and disappeared into the void. Well, there was nothing he could really do now with the man long gone. Whether the man knew him from his videos or not, he could really care less at the moment. Right now, Tommy was going back home.

And that’s what he did. Tommy arrived back home to his crying parents who were on the verge of panicking and breaking down. They were worried he would be gone, that he would be dead before they could even find him. 

Tommy didn’t admit that he  _ was _ close to dying, and he knew it. Instead, he began to cry too and apologized to his parents through the thorns and blood. His parents didn’t dare utter another word about surgery. All they wanted at this moment was to hold their precious child in their arms. They didn’t want talks of surgery to take their baby boy away.

But it wouldn’t, not anymore, because Tommy was ready to listen. Not to surgery, no. He promised them that he would finally do something about the disease. That he was finally ready to talk. He would end this hanahaki disease one way or another, and he would not go down silently.

Finally alone in his room, he called Phil, Technoblade, and Wilbur. It was time to be with his family.

…

A man opened a door and entered a small apartment before dumping his backpack onto the ground. Inside were two other men, lounging lazily on the sofa, captivated by a video on their phones. That is, until they heard the door close and perked up when they saw him and his bright, lime green hoodie.

“Dream! Where have you been?”

Dream paused and smiled before sitting down between George and Sapnap.

“Just reminiscing.” He said idly, voice strangely calm.

Under his lime green hoodie, the necklace weighed on his chest, a reminder of his past and a promise for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATT??!? An actual update??? The day after the previous one?!? Yes indeed my lovely readers. This here was a mini short I have had written since the very beginning when I first thought of this fic. Of course, I wrote and improved it a bit more but it serves as a nice little break before I come back with more angst! This may or may not be a little apology for disappearing for ALMOST a month. Anways, look forward to pt.2 of The Garden and after that, maybe an actual happy ending!
> 
> For clarification, this chapter is just a mini-short that could happen within this universe. It's not really an ending on its own. Also yes the man was Dream and you could interpret his Hanahaki as either friendship, familial, or romantic. It's up to you!


	10. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur had no memories, but he still felt. And maybe that was enough.
> 
> And while Techno and Phil could not love Tommy, they could still love Wilbur. They were a family now who had only each other, and they would not lose another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost - Sad Ending #4 pt.2
> 
> Sequel to The Garden - Sad Ending #4 pt.1 (Ch. 8) So make sure to read that first!

Before the surgery, Phil had written a letter to himself.

It was guaranteed that all emotions for the person you loved would be removed, leaving a void in that specific part of the heart. The loss of his emotions was already set in stone. Unless… unless he forgot instead. 

The Hanahaki disease was a selfish illness, always taking and taking. It grows and feeds on your love and if you forcibly remove it, it will take something along with it. The disease can either take your emotions, your memories, or your life. If it wasn’t for Technoblade or Wilbur, Phil would easily take any of the three.

But he still had them and he still  _ loved _ them. So he would live and spare them the pain of losing another loved one. He would live to make sure  _ they _ don’t follow in the youngest’s footsteps. But for the other two options? Phil didn’t  _ know _ .

Either way, he would lose something.

So he writes a letter.

‘ _ To the future person I would become, _ ’

In the future, Phil would be a man void of emotions or memories with only the letter to anchor him to Tommy. In the letter were both his feelings and past. Endless words of Tommy and only Tommy filled every space of the paper, spilling onto the back and onto more pages.

‘ _ You were surprised at how intelligent he was. He even had you fooled at first before he revealed his brilliance behind those bloody bright eyes _ .’

‘ _ He keeps sending us memes my god but we loved each one. I guess he won’t be sending anymore- _ ’

‘ _ Hey future me. This is just a reminder that I moved the picture of our parents in our wallet into a frame and replaced it with the one with Tommy, Wilbur, and me. It’s not the best copy since I gave the others to Wil and Techno, but yeah… We never did get a group photo with all four of us together, did we? _ ’

Every little bit Phil could think of he crammed into the blank spaces. But he couldn’t help but stumble and angrily crumple the corners of the papers when his mind would tangle up. How could he even begin to write how much Tommy meant to him? How much he  _ loved _ him.

_ ‘He’s not just a child, but someone you trust and love _ .’

_ ‘I remember ranting to Tommy for the first time- don’t laugh at me. It’s endearing how much he talks to me and Wil about his days. You cannot believe the shit he told me. I mean you probably can if you- I still remember but… anyways. After a lot of the texts, he actually came to me and told me that I could talk to him about my own problems as well. He sounded so quiet and awkward but he meant every word, I know it. I can’t really dump adult problems onto him, but I remember when I first started yelling about food poisoning that Kristin got and the smile he gave me when I confided in him- _ ’

‘ _ Goddammit Tommy, why did you have to die? Do you realize how hard it was to talk to your parents when they found out? You were on stage four you bastard and never told any- _ ’

‘ _ Someone fucking called Tommy out on his laugh at school this one time and Tommy the idiot tried to hide it. He actually went on a call, laughed, and made jokes even when he looked like was five seconds away from crying. Why is he like this? Why can’t he just TELL us- _

’ _ I- I just had a call from Tommy’s parents. Got invited to the funeral, but it’s after the surgery, so it’s up to you future me to attend. Don’t mess it up okay and… don’t tell his parents. Or do, I don’t know. I’m just glad I won’t be coughing up flowers at his funeral, he doesn’t deserve such disrespect. Just... say goodbye to Tommy for me, won’t you? _ ’

Days later, when Phil reopened the tightly packed letter, he read word after word on tear-stained pages.

He could feel the emotions dripping from every word he wrote. He remembered writing them itself, could almost feel the ghostly touch of a pen in his hand as he hovered over the paper. He could remember crying over the papers, but he couldn’t remember what he felt when he cried.

Was he happy when he wrote this sentence or was he beyond exasperated? He knew that he was angry when he wrote this paragraph… or was he sad? Each word was written with intent and emotions but when he tried to imagine himself writing the words themselves… he felt nothing.

He was numb.

The funny story about grilled cheese? The anger he felt when Tommy sent him a picture of a bruised lip and black eye? The very description of how they found his dead corpse, sitting in his chair eyes closed but with a smile-

Phil felt nothing.

Nothing, nothing,  _ nothing _ .

Nothing, except for one thing.  _ Pity _ .

Pity, not for Tommy, but for his past self. 

Pity for the number of tears shed and weight lost. He felt around the eyebags he gained while mourning that was now slowly fading away with his peaceful rest. Pity for the man who felt like a father that lost a son. Pity for the man who felt all of this only to lose it all.

When he read this letter, Phil felt sad for himself. The pathetic ramblings that verged insanity made him uncomfortable as he quickly skimmed faster and faster. These words and thoughts of Tommy brought nothing but a numb void, and Phil hated that feeling.

But what Phil hated most of all, was not how he felt, but how others felt. 

He could sleep well, but not his wife. Kristin, who loved and cared for Tommy almost the same as he does-  _ did _ . The woman he trusted and told his every emotion to. It seemed that when he lost his emotions, it only served to give Kristin more.

And when he held Kristin in his arms as she mourned, he hated how he could not mourn with her. The passion and sorrow that slipped past her lips clashed bitterly against his monotone, stale words. So instead, he would say nothing and do the only thing he could do and hold her closer.

“You loved him so much, Phil”

_ He did _ .   
  
“You loved him like a son.”

_ He did _ .

“I- I just wish that you still loved him.”

_ He- he didn’t _ . Phil didn’t want to keep loving that boy. Maybe his past-self would, fighting for any chance to keep his emotions. But now? Now, Phil didn’t want to feel a single thing. Yes, he couldn’t help Kristen as much as he wanted to, and perhaps he felt a little bad for leaving Tommy behind without a second thought.

But the man who wrote the letter was a  _ broken _ man. Living and breathing but basically dead, and Philza didn’t want to be that man. He  _ couldn’t _ be. He still had to live for Technoblade, Wilbur, and Kristin. 

So if he had to leave behind the son he loved then so be it. Tommy was dead, but the others weren’t. He could only hope for Tommy to get the rest he deserved wherever the dead went. For a boy he once considered his son, the most he could do was wish him well.

Perhaps the ghost of his past self was screaming and clawing at him and his actions. But that man, along with his emotions and Tommy, was dead and long gone.

He only wished that he could cry for his funeral. But even standing above his grave on that sunny day, he shed no tears.

Phil didn’t cry, but neither did Technoblade.

Technoblade felt no sorrow, nor the pity Phil had.

Instead, he felt  _ rage _ .

Why did he have to remember? He knew that there was a statistically low chance of him losing his memories instead of emotions, it was almost guaranteed that he would end up where he was now. But  _ Wilbur _ lost his memories and he didn’t even  _ want _ to.

He felt  _ angry _ and yet so  _ numb _ and Technoblade hated it.

There was a disparity in his mind and a hollow gap in his heart. Countless memories whirled around his mind. Echoes of laughter rang in his ears but he didn’t feel like laughing. He didn’t feel anything.  _ Nothing _ about Tommy.

He’s frustrated at how the memories of him loving Tommy clashes with the fact that he doesn’t love him _ at all _ anymore.

He’s angry at how the boy who took up such a large portion of his life who, from his memories, should deserve all the love in the world, but would never get any from him.

Technoblade is furious that he could finally take out the list with only three names and cross out Tommy without any remorse. The name was scribbled out yet still visible with only a single line, so he scratched more and more lines until the pen eventually ripped through the paper. Still, he felt  _ nothing _ . Nothing but rage.

People would look at him and assume he felt nothing. His monotone voice and personality weren’t exactly always emanating passion. That didn’t stop him from holding people close. To friends who stayed he held on tight. But family?

Technoblade treasured them as much as he treasured his life. His heart barely let anyone in but he let three more in, only for Tommy to die and wither away, leaving a rotting mess inside.

He _ remembers _ and he doesn’t want to. He would rather forget how much he loved Tommy than knowing that he  _ should _ be loving Tommy. Because now, someone he let into his heart was gone, and he would never recover.

Against what people believed, this lack of emotion, the  _ numbness _ scared him. He felt just as strongly as any other, but it was solely reserved and focused on so few, precious people. He just wished he chose more carefully because if he did, maybe he wouldn’t have loved Tommy-

No. Technoblade would always love Tommy. He was family. He was his  _ brother _ . 

That would never change. Neither would the lack of emotions in his bitter heart.

Most of all, Technoblade wished that he was the one to forget instead of Wilbur. If not for himself, then for Wilbur. At least he could handle it.

But Wilbur? Out of the three, Wilbur was doing the worst out of them all. While Phil and Techno felt nothing for Tommy, they still felt everything and more for Wilbur. They loved him, loved each other. Tommy had died, and the three refused to lose any more of their family. Phil and Techno loved Wilbur.

Wilbur who forgot.

There was once a boy. A boy with bright blonde hair and even brighter blue eyes. But the brightest thing about him was his  _ laugh _ … or was it his smile?

This boy was named Tommy.

This boy was dead.

And Wilbur? He knew all of this, yet none of this. 

‘Tommy was a streamer and YouTuber' said the endless sites and forums.

‘Tommy is a close friend’ said his fans and other viewers.

‘Tommy was our family. Our son and brother’ said Phil and Technoblade.

But Wilbur could say nothing about Tommy because he didn’t know who he was. Words and information came from sources all around him, both whispering and screaming at him with things he should  _ know _ yet didn’t.

Was it true that he would cry when Tommy called him his brother or was that just a silly bit? Was Tommy even his brother?

He couldn’t trust everything people said, words contradicting and mashing against each other. But he could trust Phil and Technoblade. They were his family, his brother and father in every way but blood.

But how could he believe them when they said they loved Tommy with all of their hearts with such soulless eyes and empty words? Sweet consolations and caring whispers towards Wilbur would instantly turn dead and cold at any mention of the deceased boy.

They couldn’t help it, the surgery killed all feelings of Tommy from them, after all. Only Wilbur kept his feelings at the expense of his memories, but how could he know how to feel when he didn’t know anything?

Love. Should he be loving Tommy? That’s what Techno and Phil always said, but being told to love with voices  _ devoid  _ of love did nothing but chill him to the very core. 

At first, Wilbur felt pity, just like Phil. Pity for Tommy to lose the love he should have received from Techno and Phil. Pity for the boy erased from his mind. That was when he made up his mind. At the very least, Wilbur should love the boy for the others who couldn’t.

It was Wilbur and only Wilbur who cried out of the three at Tommy’s funeral. He was the only one left able to feel anything for the boy. And while he didn’t know Tommy, he easily shed tears out of pity for the dead boy he once loved, but not anymore.

His parents had come to the three, exchanging brief and solemn words with him, Phil, and Techno. They had thanked them for being a large part of Tommy’s life, thanked them for caring for their son. And while Tommy’s parents talked to all three, they were drawn the most to Wilbur.

They were some of the few people who knew about their Hanahaki disease and how they were forced to undergo surgery. All of them suffered under the same fate of loving a boy who had passed on too early. If anything, they were grateful, if not sorry, to the three who had loved their son as much as they loved him. They all had once shared the same familial love towards Tommy, even if some didn’t anymore.

But Techno and Phil had no emotions or tears to spare, the two silent and unfeeling throughout the entire ceremony. And while Tommy’s parents understood, even they struggled to look past the empty consolations from the two. So instead, they turned to Wilbur, the only man left who could, and did feel for Tommy.

And Wilbur cried even more. Not out of sorrow or pain for Tommy, but for guilt and shame. He cried because he pitied the boy and nothing else, yet his parents thanked him all the same.

Maybe if he remembered the boy, he could grieve in a proper way Tommy deserved, but the three left Tommy with nothing but empty wishes and tears of pity.

Wilbur’s pity soon turned to rage. Anger at why  _ he _ of the three had to forget. They told him he didn’t want to forget, but he didn’t even remember that. Blotches and empty spaces filled his mind, years of his life forever gone just because they were associated with Tommy. 

For a while he had blocked both Phil and Techno, ignoring all reasons as he screamed alone in his room. It wasn’t their fault that they still remembered while he did not. It was no one's fault but the damned plant that thrived on their pain. Still, he festered unreasonable hatred towards his family who was already so broken and fragile. It had hurt them even more when Wilbur shut them out. They already lost someone they once loved. They would not lose Wilbur.

But he couldn’t help at the venom in his throat, aching to shout curses at Techno and Phil who were graced with memories while he was stuck to suffer. His skin and mouth burned and he wondered if he had Hanahaki again, flowers yearning to escape from his lungs. Maybe this time he would die, joining Tommy in death. Maybe then he would remember.

Then rage turned to sorrow and desperation as he scratched away at the emptiness in his mind. Something was missing, and it wasn’t just his memories. Voices and fuzzy images danced just out of his reach and he went insane with the laughter that was never there. He was incomplete and it drove him crazy.

It was almost pathetic how much his life revolved around one boy.

Wilbur would wake up, not knowing the time yet not caring as he laid on his bed for hours, a heavy weight on his chest and heart. But a flash and a ring from his phone immediately got him to push out of bed and desperately grasp his phone. The rush of emotions and expectancy would die away, seeing just an insignificant notification from an app or social media. It wasn’t what he was expecting. What even  _ was  _ he expecting?

A part of him wanted to lie back down and drift between consciousness and the dark haze in his mind. His bones were weary and dragged him down, almost begging him to never get up again. Maybe close his eyes and keep them closed forever. Yet he would feel light traces on his arms, almost a small hand pulling on his own, and he got up and took a shower.

_ But why? _

He felt as if he was waiting for someone, or someone was waiting for him. His phone was by his side at all times and he twitched at every sound, waiting for something or someone that never seemed to come.

_ But who _ ?

Before he knew it, he was clean and fed. The food tasted bland and grated his mouth but the thought of being yelled at for not eating made him swallow it all down. A bottle of water sat in his hands wherever he went. It was cold and heavy in his grip, yet if he put it down, he felt as if someone would get sad and he felt sad in return. He never knew who that someone would be. His feet moved without him, walking over to his computer as he hastily slipped on his headphones and went to Discord, ready to join the call.

He paused.

_ What call? _

Wilbur scrolled through his messages, looking for something but not knowing what. He checked Phil’s and Techno’s messages first. They were filled with concerns and reminders to take care of himself, but no pressure to call. And while the words sounded familiar, it just- it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t  _ them _ . But who  _ was 'them'? _

In hysteria he scrolled through his many contacts and messages, looking for something,  _ anything  _ that would explain these feelings inside him. Who or what he was looking for or expecting like second nature. Nikki, Tubbo, Ranboo- 

No one. None of them felt  _ right _ .

He faltered over a contact, someone who’s been offline for days, weeks at this point. I-it couldn’t have been him. He was dead. So Wilbur kept scrolling on, only to find nothing but a void and screams in his heart. In the end, he abandoned all thought and clicked on the last contact.

_ Child: Hey Wilburrr. Get on now BITCH. I want to talk to you, and you better be nice and fresh. I don’t want to smell you through the screen. _

_ Child: Answer meeee. Wilbur. Wil. Wilby. Get up you prick. I wanna call you and Phil and Techno. Got something important to say. _

_ Child: No scratch that nevermind. I’ll tell you later. Still get out of bed though. Lying in bed doing shit ain’t good. Better be here soon. _

Wilbur clutched his hair tightly as he wept. He was up, he was there. Wilbur was  _ there _ , but this person wasn’t. So why did he so desperately want to join a call?

Wilbur had never replied back.

Other than simple searches, Wilbur never went near any form of social media since the day of his surgery. He didn’t remember anything about or related to Tommy which subsequently meant he could barely remember anything for the past few years. Considering the fact that Tommy was in a majority of them, it made sense. What was once years of his memories, personality, and very soul was stolen and ripped away. Was he even still Wilbur?

It was strange to see his face and voice in videos he had no recollection of ever being in. The face on the screen looked healthy and happy with flushed skin and small dimples whenever he laughed. It was far from the current him, so pale and skinny with eyes that never smiled.

Wilbur had written a new song apparently, one he could barely remember let alone sing. Phil had killed him in the Dream SMP after blowing up L’manberg, but what even was L’manberg?

The internet was just an endless pit of information and memories he himself did not have, and he felt so exposed and broken.  _ Everyone  _ but him remembered. They knew more about Wilbur than Wilbur himself. 

The world was telling him who he was, forcing titles and their own views and portrayals of him from their own eyes. There on his screen were people worshipping a man who died along with his brother. A man who died like Phil’s and Techno’s emotions. A man who remembered nothing yet everything.

Musician. Streamer. Gamer.  _ Brother _ .

He was staring at a mirror image, a copy of himself that he didn’t and would never know again. This was the man he was, the man people loved. A man he could never become again. All he was now was an empty shell, a husk compared to the bright light in his videos. A light that seemed to become even brighter with a boy named TommyInnit.

No matter where he looked, Tommy’s death was plastered everywhere. Every second looking on any platform was either a reminder of the man he used to be or the boy who died. The boy who he apparently loved yet could not remember. Each time he saw an image or video of the teen, his heart felt like it was crushed and a few tears would slip through his eyes yet he never knew why. 

He  _ wanted _ to know why. Wilbur wanted to  _ remember _ .

So he holed himself up in his room and sat in front of his computer screen for days. Watching endless content, video after video of not just the WilburSoot, musician and Twitch streamer, but of the boy named TommyInnit. Brother compilations, MCC, the Dream SMP, and anything else he could find.

_ “Wilby I’m-” _ _   
_ _ “Did you just call me Wilby?” _

**Rewind** .

_ “This is the state that I’m in-” _

_ “Awwww Tommy! It’s like watching your little brother-” _

**Rewind** .

_ “You don’t deserve my mental baggage-” _ _   
_ _   
_ __ “I don’t know what that means”

At some point during the night, a chill settled in his room so he grabbed a nearby hoodie, not willing to get up to mess with the thermometer. The hoodie was tight on his body but it was unbelievably soft. He wondered where he got it, knowing he would never get one that was such a bright red color, but he ignored the pit that settled in his stomach as his eyes remained glued to his computer screen.

_ “What the fuck are you doing?” _

_ “I’m gonna shoot you BITCH!” _

**Rewind** .

_ “What’s wrong what’s wrong, you’re worrying me?!” _

_ “It’s speedrun time bitch!” _

**Rewind** .

_ “Wilbur we’re like brothers!” _

_ “Don’t say that I will cry.” _

**… Rewind** _. _

Tears fell from his eyes, but even as he cried, he never stopped watching. Droplets fell and drenched the red hoodie and the wet patches of tears of the fabric seemed too familiar. He didn’t remember why.

He remained transfixed to the screen, never moving from his seat as he watched one video after another. Laughter and shouts were replayed over and over until Wilbur memorized clips by heart. The way the boy would pause when he was at a loss of words, how he rocked back and forth when the wheezes. He saw the effort behind the kid’s actions and the genius behind his humor. He understood how people went and learned to love Tommy. He understood how Wilbur once loved him.

But this wasn’t enough. The very same videos he saw and watched were something exposed and shared amongst the rest of the world. He wasn’t Wilbur, the man joking around with Tommy in the video. He was just another view, a faceless watcher amongst the endless audience. He was replacing his memories, he knew what happened, but he didn’t remember them from his own eyes, only the eyes of millions of others. 

Like the viewers, he laughed at the jokes and was enthralled by the action. It was endearing and inspiring, but so artificial. The people on the screen didn’t exist anymore. There were no Wilbur and Tommy, the best of brothers. Neither of them was alive.

The way he viewed and perceived Tommy was no different from anyone else, and he  _ hated _ that. Tommy was supposed to be his  _ brother _ , someone he loved to the point of despair. A child who was so integral to his life that when he left, it left nothing but remnants and shattered pieces. Someone  _ so _ important was viewed as nothing more than an entertainer, and Wilbur  _ hated _ it.

But he could only see him how the world saw him. Child, soldier, protagonist, annoying, funny.

Wilbur knew nothing about the boy himself. How did he act behind the camera? What did he do in calls when it was just them, isolated from the world and far from everyone but family? Who was the boy he once called his brother?

The videos did nothing to help him learn about Tommy or his past. But he was still crying. His eyes only became redder and redder with time until he could barely see past his blurred vision. 

He cried because while Wilbur knew nothing about Tommy, he knew everything about himself. 

He didn’t see the depressed musician or the charismatic revolutionary leader. There was no insane dictator or oblivious ghost. All Wilbur saw was a man who  _ loved  _ his brother.

He watched his own actions just as intently as he watched Tommy. Every little movement and flicker clearer to him than anyone else because that was  _ his  _ body and his  _ own _ mind. 

He sees the squinted eyes whenever he smiles, or the subtle twitch of his lips. When he turns away from the camera or covers his mouth with his hands, he could almost  _ feel _ the smile that he hid.

Wilbur could see the love burning in his own eyes and entwined in his voice. He knew that whoever the boy was, he had once loved him with so much of his heart and being. 

Wilbur had loved Tommy, and maybe he could love again.

Tommy had a part of his heart, whether he remembered it or not. He would never get that piece back, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he pulled up his personal messages and little conversations he had with him. From the notes on his calendar to small reminders around his house, he searched for every bit of soul Tommy had left on this world.

If Wilbur had loved Tommy once, he would learn to love him again.

Everyone knew about Tommy’s Hanahaki and his death. Nobody knew about the other three’s, at least not yet. And if they could, they wanted it to remain that way. The appearance of the rare Hanahaki disease and Tommy’s death was already too much for people to bear. They didn’t want to shatter the world by revealing the fact all three almost met the same fate.

Besides, their familial love for each other was a personal, sacred secret. It was something for them and only them to really know and understand. While Techno and Phil could no longer love Tommy, the remaining three still loved each other with their life and soul. A weakness and strength that was for them and them alone.

With the news of Tommy’s death, all three of them and many other people took breaks from streaming.While not everyone had to deal with surgery like Wilbur, Techno, and Phil, too many people were close and deeply affected by the loss of the bright child. It wasn’t a surprise when Tommy had the penchant for making a place in your heart, willingly or not. 

Tommy left the world with more than just his life.

There were some people, however, who continued to stream. One of them being Tubbo. Out of all the people affected, Tubbo was perhaps the most affected aside from the three, just short of gaining hanahaki himself. Probably because both he and Tommy were never afraid to tell each other how much they loved each other, the closest and best of friends.

It was for that exact reason Tubbo had continued streaming. The death affected not only close friends but all the viewers and fans around the world. In a dark moment and time, it was Tubbo who forced himself to become a light for the people, bringing smiles and laughter when others could not bring themselves to.

‘Tommy would want us to be happy,’ Tubbo had once said on a stream. And while his eyes were clearly blotchy and irritated red, no one dared to comment on it. After all, everyone knew that behind the streams, Tubbo himself was broken down and grieving. Behind the forced smiles and sudden moments of silence was just a child who lost their best friend yet carrying the world on their own. No one knew if he did it for others or for himself. Perhaps by making others smile, he himself could learn to truly smile again.

He was another person the three had told the truth to, and the heaviness in his eyes was a burden no child should ever have. But after a deep breath, the boy had steeled his nerves and looked at the three with determination. He would love Tommy even more for the three.

Wilbur hated how someone so young could be stronger than he was.

The three, however, had no choice but to temporarily leave streaming. They could not let a single hint of their condition out to the world. How would others react when they learned that not one, but four Youtubers all closely connected had acquired such a fatal disease?

Even the surgery could not fix all their problems, it only created new ones. How would the world react when they learned that two of Tommy’s closest friends felt nothing for the boy at all? How would they react if they knew Wilbur didn’t even  _ remember _ him?

So they lied. Behind all pretense and acting, they had avoided everything relating to Tommy. It worked for the most part. No one wanted to be reminded of the dead. Every question or reference to Tommy was met with curt answers or plain ignorance. People believed it was because it was too painful to remember, a forbidden subject not to be touched upon. None of them expected that their empty, cold words were simply just that, a byproduct of feeling nothing but emptiness towards the dead boy.

It worked for Techno and Phil. The monotone words were never out of place with Techno, and the subject of Tommy simply became another topic that Phil refused to talk about and would shut down immediately. It worked for those two. It didn’t work for Wilbur.

While Wilbur could avoid things all he wanted, it would have been all too clear if the man who wore his heart on his sleeve was to utter nothing but empty words. Fortunately for him, he never had too. He was cursed with the loss of his memories, but not his feelings. While certain questions or references were lost among his missing memories, Wilbur never had to fake any of the fondness he felt for the boy. Tears would slip without his permission and his face would fall at random intervals. If anything, Wilbur showed enough emotion to make up for all three of them.

Wilbur had no memories, but he still felt. And maybe that was enough.

And while Techno and Phil could not love Tommy, they could still love Wilbur. They were a family now who had only each other, and they would not lose another. 

It had hurt the two to see Wilbur in pain, feeling the sorrow and agony that never once touched them. There was little they could do to help or console him, not when he was feeling too much while they felt too little, if at all. They could tell their words were empty, both in feelings and in worth. It only led to Wilbur shutting them out even more.

But they have learned from their mistakes. Never again would they let go of a love that meant so dear to them. They would love Wilbur, and they would love him openly and dearly, as a son and brother. After just a few days and some plane tickets, both Techno and Phil had barged into Wilbur’s place, bags and all. They were met with a sobbing Wilbur, gripping tightly to his guitar while a video played on his computer screen.

Immediately, they had pulled the instrument away and forced the man to bed, wrapping a blanket over the red hoodie they wore. They recognized the hoodie but said nothing. Instead, they let him sleep as the two cleaned and fixed the house.

The moment Wilbur woke up, they fretted over him and forced him to get up and about. There was no ghostly touch pulling Wilbur to the shower, but instead, Phil pushing his back and shoving clean clothes and a toothbrush into his hands. The food tasted less bitter and bland, but instead sweeter with Techno’s cooking and leftovers made by Kristin. His phone was forced away from him, being told that checking social media wouldn’t help, and for once, Wilbur didn’t feel the urge to wait for a call that would never come.

In a small corner of his home, the three had set up a little shrine of some sorts in the memory of Tommy. It was the least he deserved, they all believed. Just a simple picture of the boy memorialized in a small frame next to a small vase of lilacs that Wilbur would replace every other week. 

Next to a frame was a new picture taken by Phil, this time of him, Wilbur, and Techno. While the four never got to take a picture together, with the pictures side by side, it was the closest thing they could get.

Even Techno contributed to the little memorial, placing a list of four names carefully written onto a piece of stationery paper. All of their names were there, with Tommy’s being first and at the very top. ‘It was what he would’ve wanted’, Techno and Phil said, and Wilbur believed them. The other two didn’t understand the purpose of the list, but they said nothing when Techno taped the paper next to the pictures.

With this, Tommy would never be forgotten.

They should have been a family of four, but they were still a family with only three.

~~~

“So chat, as I said this song is still in the works but if all things go right, it should be out soon.” Wilbur smiled at the camera, glancing at the words that flew by in the chat. The familiar weight of the guitar laid in his arm as he idly strummed a few chords as practice. From the speakers he could hear the comments and laughter from Techno and Phil, laughing at something Tubbo had said.

He cleared his throat and basked in the attention from the thousands of people. With a soft smile, he took a deep breath. “This is for Tommy.”

_ My memories are clouded _

_ By the bitter taste of regret _

_ I'm looking over old messages _

_ So I'll never forget _

_ "Brother" this and "brother" that _

_ Don't call me that, I'll cry _

_ Cry a million tears for you _

_ For I never got to say goodbye _

The faint, lingering touches on Wilbur faded away. In a far distance, or maybe somewhere near, was a small, ghostly smile that soon faded away with an echo of faint laughter that blended in with the strumming of a guitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6k words! WOW this was a long chapter. Once again, sorry for the long break between updates but I finally was able to finish another angsty ending! This is actually an important chapter because it's the first chapter that's a sequel to a previous ending. I will be doing much more of these for previous endings like Hide, Memory, and Tomorrow, so this is just practice and an example of what those chapters would be like! I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I promise I have a lot of happy endings in the works where they spend time together and actually talk like smart people. They will come soon... one day.
> 
> Also, credit to my friend Waxflowerwoes for writing the lyrics for the song Wilbur sings. The full version is below!
> 
> Don't take this as weird  
> But I can't stop thinking about you  
> There's a piece of my heart  
> That's bleeding out blue
> 
> You're a ghost on my shoulder  
> Who'll never grow older  
> Never got the chance  
> A poor victim of circumstance
> 
> My memories are clouded  
> By the bitter taste of regret  
> I'm looking over old messages  
> So I'll never forget
> 
> "Brother" this and "brother" that  
> Don't call me that, I'll cry  
> Cry a million tears for you  
> For I never got to say goodbye
> 
> You're a ghost on my shoulder  
> Who'll never grow older  
> Never got the chance  
> A poor victim of circumstance
> 
> You're a ghost on my shoulder  
> Standing so tall  
> You'll never grow older  
> Spend your time haunting my halls
> 
> You're a ghost on my shoulder  
> Please never leave  
> Never leave

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy this was written by NKhaotic! You can find me at @NKhaotic on Tumblr
> 
> This work is going to have multiple endings that will branch off after the first two chapters. Both happy and sad endings are to come! Also, the passages were taken from the Urban Dictionary definition of Hanahaki disease because I am very classy
> 
> This is my first posted fanfic I've written so enjoy!


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